


For I Think I Still Love You (Do You Mind)

by crazygirlne



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Earths, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood Lust, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiny Fix-It, Doctoring Wounds, Everything's okay in the end, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Legion of Doom Leonard Snart, Legion of doom - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Two Leonard Snarts, paradoxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: A couple months after Destiny, Sara finds out Leonard's been alive and hiding this whole time. She knows the timeline is at stake, but she still finds herself visiting him almost every night.  Things are rough, for both of them, but at least they have each other: friends with a growing promise of more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s that fic that I said I’d write, based on [the drabble for newyorkcitydreaming’s prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8030326/chapters/18438688). At least, here’s the *start* of that, because I’m not sure where it’s going, but it’s kinda epic in my head.
> 
> Canon divergent, Destiny fixit and like… pretty alternate season two. Some things changed by The Flash S2 finale, others not. Unlikely to follow the episodes even remotely if I’m still working on it by then, but I’ve got some plans for incorporating some of the things we know.
> 
> Title from a song by Five for Fighting.
> 
> Edit 8 Feb 17: This fic has been nominated for a WIP award!  
> 

Mick’s been distracted since Leonard died, but Sara isn’t really surprised. Despite the distraction, it feels like the two of them are the only ones who _get_ just how much losing Leonard sucks.

Then she loses Laurel, too, and he’s still distracted, except now she feels even more alone. They get through what they have to with Savage, and she can feel Mick watching her, more as time goes on, and a couple months after Leonard’s death, it’s just all too much.

“What?” she demands, shoving him out of the hallway and into her room as best she can. “You’ve been watching me, and now you’re following me, but you won’t talk, and I’m sick of it. What’s going on?” Mick can be hard to read sometimes. She can usually tell what he’s thinking by his tone of voice, but when he’s silent like this, she gets so little. And all he’s doing right now is staring. “ _What_?” she yells, slamming her fist against the wall, accidentally making the door slide shut.

“Snart isn’t dead.” The words are out of his mouth as soon as the door is closed.

“What?” she repeats. The fight’s gone out of her, and she’s too tired for confusion, so the question comes out sounding defeated.

“He isn’t dead. Can’t tell anyone. He’s in hiding.” Mick’s watching her, waiting for some reaction, she knows, but it just…

It feels fake. “You’re kidding, right? That’s not a good joke, you know. He’s been dead for _months_ , Mick.”

Mick just watches her like he’s still trying to decide something. He’s not acting like it’s a joke.

“Where is he, then?” she asks. “Is he on the ship?”

Mick shakes his head. “Not far from where we’ve been parking.”

They’ve been using a spot in 2016 Central City as a sort of base of operations. Since Rip is no longer trying to make sure they stay with him or keep them in the dark about any of their “current” events, they’re allowed to come and go as they please. Some of them do, and others don’t.

Sara hasn’t had a lot of reason to leave.

Still, it’s not… How can he be alive?

“Okay, Mick, don’t make me drag this all out of you one piece at a time.”

“Think he should probably tell you the rest. I’ll take you tonight.”

She wants to demand he take her now, but they’re not in 2016, and they’ve got a quick recon job to do.

“Tonight.”

***

She’s grateful that the day isn’t particularly challenging; Sara’s not sure she could have handled it. Then again, as it is, the day _crawls_ , and there’s almost nothing to distract her from her thoughts.

If he’s really alive, it’s a good thing. Why would he be hiding it from the team?

If he’s really alive, then a serious chunk of pain she hadn’t wanted to deal with was for nothing.

If he’s really alive, she’s gonna probably kill him.

If he’s really alive.

She doesn’t think Mick would lie to her about this or anything, it’s just that she’s so stuck on _how what why how_ that she can’t move on. Not without seeing him, and there’s this never ending day she has to live through first.

Finally, they’ve landed back at home base, and Mick comes to find her just before she’s about to search him out.

“Let’s go, Blondie.”

She feels eyes on her as she follows him out, but it’s not like the two of them never hang out, and she really doesn’t even care enough to look and see who it is watching them. She walks beside him as they move properly into the city and travel just a few blocks, and they’re both silent as they approach a tiny little house she’d probably never have even noticed, one of those houses that blends in with the neighborhood and the yard so perfectly that it may as well not be there.

It looks empty.

“He’s here?” she asks, and he nods, gesturing for her to walk ahead to the door. She takes a deep breath and walks forward, hesitating only a second before rapping on the door. She’s ready to knock a second time when it opens.

“Mick, I told you—” Leonard, looking very much alive and well, stops short at the sight of Sara standing there. Her hands clench, and she’s not sure whether she wants to punch him or drag him into a hug, neither of which really seems like the best course of action at the moment. “Sara.” His eyes flick over her shoulder to Mick, and she sees warring emotions on Leonard’s face before he steps back. “Come in.”

It’s brighter inside than she expects, and a glance at the windows shows they’re well-covered, using that papery stuff that makes it so you can’t really see in or out. Then her eyes are drawn back to Leonard, who’s watching her warily. Neither looks away as Mick comes in and shuts the door.

“Know I’m not supposed to come this early, Boss,” he says, seemingly unaware of the tension, “but I figured you’d want enough time to explain things.”

“Did you now,” Leonard drawls, not even bothering to make it sound like a question. Mick grunts in response, then strolls into the living room and makes himself at home on the only piece of furniture, a rickety old chair with floral cushions, then flips on the television. Leonard sighs, and some of the intensity leaves his eyes. “Come on,” he says. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The house might actually be even smaller inside than it looks from the outside. There’s the tiny living room, an even smaller kitchen, a bathroom with a little shower, and a bedroom that’s just as small as the rest of the house, the double bed in the center taking up most of it.

“That’s it,” he says, leaning against the doorframe as Sara wanders toward the bed, then turns back to face him. He’s still watching her, but there’s still a large part of her that isn’t accepting this.

He’s dead.

How is he standing right here in front of her?

“Say something,” he says finally, and she realizes she hasn’t said a word since they got here.

What does he expect, though? “What am I supposed to say?” she snaps, crossing her arms. “Do you know how shitty it’s been? You were _dead!_ How are you here? Why aren’t you back on the Waverider? Where _were_ you?”

Okay, maybe she has plenty she wants to say.

“I wanted to tell you.” He looks down at the floor. “I’ve thought about telling you, many times.”

“Then just _tell_ me already, damn it!”

At her outburst, his eyes find hers again, and he nods carefully. “Have a seat,” he says, nodding toward the bed. She sits at the foot of it, and he waits a few seconds, probably making sure she isn’t going to stand back up immediately like she sort of wants to, then joins her.

He isn’t touching her, but the bed shifts with his weight, and he’s close enough that she can _feel_ that he’s really there, and she has to close her eyes to gather her composure, because he’s really _here_ , and he’s alive, and he’s not just a figment of her imagination or a ghost or—

“I think I did die,” he says, low voice crashing into her thoughts. “But then I was back in Central City, watching the Waverider land. I was planning to come aboard, but I was interrupted.”

“Interrupted?” She opens her eyes and looks at him.

He’s watching his hands as he nods. “My future self, apparently. He told me that I couldn’t let anyone see me, or else it would destroy the timeline.”

“That’s it? And you believed him? What if it was just someone who found a way to look like you?”

He meets her eyes, and a wry smile tugs at his lips. “I considered that. So of course, I snuck onto the Waverider as soon as I got a chance.” The ghost of a smile drops. “It initiated some protocol of Gideon’s. She explained a few things, then made it so I’m invisible to her.”

“Invisible? Seriously? Why?”

He looks back at the floor. “She confirmed that I have to stay hidden. Of course, that went to shit pretty much immediately when Mick saw me leaving the ship. As far as I know, though, Gideon has managed to keep anyone else from finding me by refusing to acknowledge my continued existence. I don't really have that much to go on, but things here are a little different. I haven't gone out enough to really see what's changed, but this isn't the 2016 I left. Not exactly.”

“Why haven’t I heard about this?” Sara’s not sure she’s ever felt quite so out of the loop.

“Some people notice. Others don’t. I haven’t been able to find a pattern.”

“I haven’t really been getting out much, not since…” She swallows. “Did Mick tell you about Laurel?”

He nods. He doesn’t look up at her, but his voice is rough and sincere when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“She’s gone, and I pretty much cut most of my ties before I left the first time, and then Dad… Honestly, I think I just remind him that his daughters keep dying.” Her throat is tight, and she grabs a fistful of the quilt she’s sitting on. This isn’t really what she wants to talk about right now. “So. You weren’t supposed to let me or Mick see you. What happens now that you did?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” He’s silent for a minute, his shoulders tense. “I know it was a bad idea, but I’m glad Mick brought you here.”

There’s something in the way he says it that brings her back to that moment— _for me. And you. And me and you_ —and for the first time, she’s really aware of the fact that they’re so close together, on his bed, alone, and the last time she saw him, she’d kissed him in a way that said both too much and not enough.

Her hand is still fisted in the quilt, and her fingers are starting to hurt, but it helps ground her. “I can see if I can get some answers out of Gideon. It probably depends how she’s hiding you from herself, exactly. But you can’t just expect to hide out forever without even knowing what’s gonna happen if you don’t, right? So I’ll try.”

“I appreciate that.”

She takes a breath and unclenches her fist. “So what are the rules, here? No letting anyone find out about you, I know, but you seemed upset that Mick was here early.”

“Neighborhood’s pretty inactive between eleven at night and four in the morning.” He looks at her. “Less chance of being seen. Since most of the bars around here close at two, Mick and I decided it’s safest if he only comes between eleven and two, when he has to. Lets the rest of the team assume he’s out drinking.”

“Okay. So I’ll try to figure out _why_ you being back from the dead puts the timeline at risk again, and I’ll come back tomorrow after eleven. Oh, and I’ll see if the differences you noticed have anything to do with it.”

“There hasn’t been anything big, yet,” he says. “Streets that should have different names. Coffee shops called the wrong thing. A bank down on Amsterdam that opened a few years back having their grand opening next week. That sort of thing.”

“Got it.” Her mind is spiraling with the new information she’s trying to organize. Little of this makes sense yet, but hopefully, she’ll be able to get some answers. She’s exhausted, but she feels more awake than she has in months, outside of a fight. Sara takes in the blue eyes that are watching her, running back through everything he’s said tonight, making sure she isn’t missing anything.

She did miss one thing.

“You said you’re glad Mick brought me here.” She waits for Leonard to raise an eyebrow, then she continues. “So am I.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara gets some information, then gets into a bit of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry chapter 2 took longer than I wanted! There’s a fight scene that was a bit rough to write, just as a heads up. Nothing worse than canon, but I don’t handle violence well, and I know I’m not alone in that. This is not a happy chapter, but I think it's a good one, and it sets things up for next chapter to be even better.

“Gideon,” Sara demands as she storms into her room, “I need to talk to you in private.”

“Yes, Miss Lance,” comes the ship’s even tone. “Audio for this conversation is restricted exclusively to your quarters.”

“Tell me what you know about Leonard.” Sara’s pacing, three steps forward, three back.

“Leonard Snart, formal criminal and former member of the team aboard this ship, died 64 days ago, helping to free time in the process. He is no longer considered a criminal, at least by those on this ship. He leaves behind a sister, Lisa Snart. Other relatives are unknown.”

“Okay.” How does she do this? Does she just ask right out? The AI is basically just a machine, though, to the best of her understanding, if one that can be reasoned with. If Gideon really did hide Len thoroughly from view, maybe hypothetical is the best way to go. “So, in theory, if he were to come back like he’d never really died, would that change anything?”

“Yes.”

Sara frowns; the ship is usually a bit more forthcoming than just a yes or no answer. “What would it change? I mean, besides us just having him back on the team.”

“It is entirely possible that time would unravel. He isn’t meant to be here, not the version of him that you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sara stops pacing and crosses her arms, wishing, not for the first time, there was something obvious to glare at when talking to Gideon. “Are there different versions of him?”

“I’m not able to say. Further explanation of this could result in dangerous foreknowledge of events that will affect you directly.”

“Okay, so if my v— if the version of him that traveled with us came back somehow, hypothetically, what would he need to do to keep from messing up the timeline?”

“Hypothetically, he would need to keep contact non-existent, or as close that as possible, with anyone else he could encounter. The more people who knew he was alive, the more opportunity for problems, potentially ones of catastrophic levels.”

“Why would it make that big a difference?” Sara starts pacing again. “This doesn’t make sense.”

The lights in her room flash, and Gideon sounds almost pleading. “Miss Lance, it’s imperative that you discontinue this line of questioning. There were drastic changes in the timeline, but the changes are still solidifying. I’ve run scenarios based on the team’s interference with these changes, but unless everything happens exactly the right way, and in the right order, with the right people, things get worse rather than better. You must not tell the rest of the team. You must not let them hear these questions.”

“I can’t even ask?”

Silence. Sara hasn’t really found Gideon particularly creepy before, but with the dire warnings and now silence, silence so heavy she can almost feel Gideon watching, waiting…

Maybe the AI is a little creepy sometimes.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?” Silence, save for the light footsteps as Sara crosses to her bed. “Fine. Can you turn on some music so I can sleep?”

The music starts immediately, the playlist Sara favors when she needs a little noise to get to sleep, so she figures the ship has forgiven her line of questioning. It takes way too long to fall asleep, and when she finally does, her sleep is peppered with unknown assailants, unraveling yarn, and Leonard.

***

Sara lets herself yawn one last time before leaving the Waverider. It’s ridiculous how hard it’s been to get her mind on track this morning. The mission, at least, should be an easy one; she has to sneak into a moderately well-guarded building and plant a recording device that’ll let them monitor the building from wherever and whenever they are.

She could do it in her sleep.

They were able to park pretty close to where she needs to be, so within minutes, she’s gotten past three guards and is hiding in a small alcove, waiting for Ray to give her the all-clear to continue. He’s muttering as he works through the cameras and the door locks, but Sara knows he enjoys it, enjoys contributing when the mission is a bit too sensitive for his suit.

She tunes him out, scanning her surroundings once more before her mind starts wandering.

Leonard is _alive_ , and time is at risk because of it. She’s still not sure why. Why does he have to be dead? Can’t it only _help_ to have him here, to have him on the team again?

It’s not like she’s all that close to the rest of the team, not since Kendra left, but she does _try_ sometimes, and having to keep this from them when it could directly affect them, when they’d normally be the first to jump in to fix any problems, feels wrong.

Sara feels her heart rate increasing, her breath speeding up, her body reacting to her frustration in a way it didn’t for such a simple mission. It’s just all so frustrating, though. He’s _back_ , and that should be a happy thing, and it still is, if she’s completely honest with herself. It just feels like, in the meantime, everything else has gotten worse, harder, and—

Sara’s brought crashing back into the present just in time to knock a small, close-range weapon out of the way. She’s simultaneously aware of Ray’s voice, frantic in her ear, warning her she’s got company. She blocks him back out immediately, channeling her pent-up energy into the fight in front of her.

It’s a bad call. It’s not that she can’t handle the person who attacked her, or the people who arrive as backup.

It’s that she can handle them a little too well.

The itch to fight, to hit, to _hurt_ doesn’t come exclusively from the blood lust, didn’t start after she died. The Pit amplified it, though, and even though she typically has it under control now, she’s been stewing, her body itching for a fight it couldn’t get.

And now she has one.

There’s no conscious thought in the way she takes down one assailant, then another, using more force than necessary. Her movements are clean, powerful, flowing from one to the next to the next until a sharp pain in her side brings her back to herself as a knife catches her at a thin point in her suit.

She spins to face her attacker, only then becoming aware of the fact that he’s her last, and he’s terrified. Sara pushes down the blood lust that’s still trying to fight her, telling her to take him down, to make it so he can never fight again. She has to take a deep breath, and the man takes the opportunity to jab at her again.

Sara manages to disarm him without hurting him, but she hurts herself in the process, catching her off-hand against the blade. She ignores it, watching him, knowing that if she attacks him, her control is too shaky, and he might not survive.

“Run,” she growls, and he does. She stares after him, breathing heavily, until Rip’s voice breaks through her concentration.

“Sara, you need to come back to the ship. We’ll complete the mission at another time.” His voice is even, steady, without the censure it may have held when they started working together. As she looks around at the unmoving people on the ground, though, she thinks she probably deserves the judgement.

The walk back to the Waverider is without incident, and Rip and Ray are both waiting for her when she boards.

“Sara, you’re bleeding.” Ray sounds genuinely concerned. She’s a little surprised, really; he had access to the cameras, has to have seen everything she did.

And he has to know how badly she’d fucked up. “Did I kill anyone?”

She hates her voice in that moment, small and broken, and she glares at the ground, as if that might help.

“Everyone survived.” Rip’s voice is still even. “There’s a long recovery for some, but I had Gideon make sure. Nobody died at your hand today, Sara.”

She takes a shaky breath and nods. “That’s good. I’m gonna go now.” She starts toward her room, needing the space, the solitude, the chance to get herself completely back under control. She’s dimly aware of Rip telling Ray to let her go, and she quickly reaches safety, immediately sitting on the floor in her favorite position for meditation.

She hasn’t lost control like that since she went back to the League. She needs this, needs to find her center, but guilt is buffeting her from one side and the sting of her shallow injuries from the other, and she hasn’t yet managed to slip into the almost-trance when there’s a careful knock on her door.

“What is it?” she calls, and Jax seems to take that as invitation to open the door.

Jax is a good kid and all, and honestly, he’s not much younger than Sara, but he makes her feel old. It’s not that he hasn’t had shit happen to him, but it just never seems to bother him as much.

She’ll admit it’s possible that he just deals with it better than some of the crew. She knows she wouldn’t handle it very well if she literally could not get too far away from someone without dying. It seems like the worst version of being trapped. And right now, she’s just not able to cope with someone who deals better than she does.

“I’m fine, Jax.”

“You’re still bleeding. You should really get that checked out. Gideon’s pretty cool about that stuff.” He knows better than to actually come into the room, at least, hovering at the doorway instead.

“I’m just gonna meditate until I can sleep. I need to get my mind under control before I can worry about anything else.”

He has to see the struggle on her face, because he doesn’t push it any further, just nods and leaves. Sara sighs, trying again to focus on her breathing, to clear her mind, to let herself be sucked down into the merciful abstraction of the exercise.

***

It doesn’t work, not like it usually does. It passes the time, though, which is something; by the time she gives up, frustrated but at least a little calmer than before she started, it’s late enough that she can justify sneaking out to see Leonard.

So of course Mick is waiting right outside her door.

He doesn’t ask how she’s doing, just eyes her wounds briefly before looking back at her and grunting, a sound she takes to mean he doesn’t think she’s dying any time soon.

“Goin’ to see him?” he mutters, and she nods, focusing long enough to add more.

“Found some stuff out. Want to come hear it?”

He shakes his head. “Boss gets annoyed if I come too many nights in a row.” There’s something about how his eyes flicker away from hers that makes her think that’s not the whole truth. “‘Sides, seems like maybe you’d rather be alone tonight.”

There it is.

She could argue, pretend she’s doing okay, only… “Thanks, Mick.”

He hesitates before putting a hand on her shoulder. Despite how slowly he moves, she still tenses, but it’s not as bad as she was afraid of. Maybe she’ll get her shit together after all.

“Careful, Blondie.”

She nods again, then steps away, turning and walking off the ship. It’s not until she’s halfway to Leonard’s hideout that she realizes she’s still in her Canary outfit, blood easily visible against the white. She briefly considers turning back, but her footsteps never falter, and she gets to her destination sooner than she expects. She knocks on the door, a little pattern in a desperate attempt at levity, and she holds her breath until the door opens.

“What the hell happened to you, Sara?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara talks things through with Leonard.

_“What the hell happened to you, Sara?”_

“Didn’t you know? This is the new fashion. Totally in style.”

Leonard only scowls at her continued attempt at levity, holding the door open before disappearing toward the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with a small first aid kit in hand. He gestures for her to sit in the chair in the living room. Tired of fighting, she does.

The little she’s found out is buzzing through her mind, warring with the day’s fight for primary focus. She knows they need to talk, but she isn’t ready to bring herself to start, and Leonard doesn’t seem to feel the need to break the silence. He crouches down so he can reach her, taking her hand and carefully turning it palm up.

Of course he can already tell which wound is her worst. After ignoring it all day, she’s finally really aware of both the deep throb and the sting of her skin, a combination she knows well. It’s not the first time she’s been sliced by a blade.

She watches as he cleans her palm, his actions somehow both soothing and electrifying. He wipes around the wound first, and his hesitation is barely noticeable before he moves to cleaning the cut itself. Her fingers straighten almost imperceptibly at the first touch.

He notices. Of course he does. “Sorry,” he mumbles, continuing.

It’s like his voice flips a switch. “I deserve it. I fucked up today, and this is all I’ve got to show for it. I deserve worse.” She knows injuries, knows this one won’t cause any permanent harm, won’t even if she never lets Gideon touch it. The men she fought won’t be so lucky.

Leonard doesn’t argue, doesn’t tell her she’s wrong, but she sees his lips pull down to one side, and it makes her want to prove something, show him how fucked she is. “What happened?” he asks, voice even.

“I got distracted. I let the blood lust take over. I hit and hacked and damaged and I _enjoyed_ it. I wanted _more_. It’s what I’m good at.” Sara watches Leonard, who’s staring resolutely at her hand, taking his time cleaning it. “Maybe that’s all I should do. I should go back to the League and just give them what they want, that version of me that wants to get out anyway.”

His eyes flick to hers, and her breath catches at the depth of emotion. It’s enough to snap her out of whatever mess her mind is putting her through, enough that she can actually hear, actually _listen_ when he speaks.

“You’re better than that. You know if that’s who you really were, I wouldn’t care. But it’s not.”

_That’s not you anymore._

_You seem to have a problem with being a killer._

He’s so sure of her, always has been. He doesn’t trust easily, she knows he doesn’t, but he trusts _her_ , and she’s not going to stop to examine why his opinion means so much more than hers in this moment.

“You weren't there,” she says, “so you didn't see it.”

“You didn't kill anyone. If you'd really lost control, you would have.”

Leonard has no hesitation in saying she didn't kill anyone. “You weren't there,” she repeats. “And you can't _be_ there.” Her hand tenses remembering her conversation with Gideon.

“Almost done here,” Leonard says, running a thumb once across the skin near her wrist, where it doesn't hurt.

“You can't be there,” she says again. “Gideon didn't tell me a lot,” Sara adds after a beat, “but she said the more people you come in contact with, the more likely the whole timeline will unravel. I tried to get more information, but she went all creepy and quiet. Oh! Right, she also said that there were changes in the timeline, but they're still solidifying.”

“Which would explain why some people are aware of the changes and others aren't.” Leonard puts down some gauze and then wraps her hand, his touch so gentle it makes her want to scream.

“And you probably remember more ‘cause you're not supposed to be here. Like the timeline doesn't want to bother fixing your memories, or it can't.” She sits up suddenly. “But it can change mine, and Mick’s. Len, what happens if we forget? What if we don't remember any of the original timeline?”

“You remember now, right? Any gaps in your memory? Anything that feels wrong?”

"But the changes are still solidifying. What if tomorrow I can't remember? What if more things change, and I don't know what really happened?"

"I'll be here to remind you. Time doesn't want me here, or it does and it's protecting me. Either way, I suspect you're right, and my memories will remain intact." He hesitates before he resumes his careful attention to her wound. "I won't let you forget what's real, Sara. I promise."

She sags in the chair, and Leonard turns his attention to some of her smaller injuries. She just sits there, letting him do it, leaving her arms loose so he can deal with cuts along them, letting her mind wander.

Everything’s a mess. She fucked up and can't even tell the team why, can't warn them about what might happen, what might change, _why_ it might. But he's here, and he's right; she didn't lose as much control as it felt like.

She focuses on those two things, blocking out the rest: Leonard's here, and she's okay. She repeats them until he moves his attention to a shallow cut on her face.

She recognizes that some of the desperation has left her voice, and that helps her relax further, despite the fact that there are still so many things that are wrong. “It’s not fair that we both came back from the dead, and I got the stupid blood lust, and you have to stay all hidden. It’s supposed to be a second chance, isn’t it? Coming back to life? Can’t they make the second chance a little easier?”

“What fun would that be?” She looks at him, only then realizing she's been avoiding eye contact, and he's smirking at her, his eyes holding a mix of amusement and pain. “I mean, sure, I could see my sister. I could come back to the team instead of living here. I could get food without having to watch every step I take.” He starts putting away the supplies, the unused ones back in the first aid kit and the used ones in a neat pile, breaking eye contact in the process.

“It isn’t like I didn’t accept dying,” he continues. “I knew what I was volunteering for. It was worth it, and I’d do it again. But even with things being difficult, I’m glad I’m alive now. Are you?”

He’s watching her again, and he could be asking about whether she’s glad _she’s_ alive or whether she’s glad _he_ is, despite the complications of both. Either way, it’s the same answer.

“Yeah. I am.”

He nods once. “Good. You can use the bathroom to finish cleaning up. There are some old rags under the sink, but I washed them.” He stands and walks out, probably headed to put everything away, and she sighs.

She’s feeling better, more herself than she has all day. It was good, coming here alone, to be with Leonard. Honestly, she might feel more herself than she has in months. Losing him hurt, more than she ever really let herself feel, and she might have recovered under different circumstances, but losing Laurel so soon after made that impossible.

She forces herself to stand and walk to the bathroom. The mirror is crap, offering hardly any reflection, so she focuses on her arms, grabbing a rag and cleaning around the bandage, around the other cuts that hadn’t needed coverings, getting as much blood off herself as she can. By the time she leaves the bathroom, Leonard is leaning against a kitchen counter.

He nods approvingly. “Better?”

“Yeah. But I was thinking.” She joins him at the counter, resting her side against it so she can face him. “We should make sure there’s nothing major that’s changed. I mean, you mentioned some little stuff, but for all I know, big stuff has changed and I didn’t even notice. And where you can’t really talk to people, you might not know, either.”

“Good idea,” he says. He turns and rummages around a small drawer until he comes up with a couple pens. “We can write on the counter. I’ll write down what I know is different. You work on what you remember that I’d be able to confirm. Just the highlights.”

Just the highlights.

She nods, takes a pen, and turns to face the counter. “Stuff we saw together, or like… all of history?”

“Let’s start with things we witnessed firsthand, together.”

Sara taps the pen against her lips, then starts, including not just what they actually saw, but anything that was obvious with the team.

  * _Met on roof after Rip kidnapped us_
  * _Got weird in the 70s, complete with bar fight_
  * _Chronos attacked_
  * _Blew up a nuke_
  * _Carter died_
  * _Didn’t kill Stein and he didn’t explode_
  * _Alternate 2046 and then you and Mick were fighting_
  * _Mick sided with the pirates after we almost froze to death_
  * _I got left behind with Kendra and Ray (who were hooking up)_



She continues, hesitating before adding the last item:

  * _I kissed you and then you died like a stupid hero_



It’s a good list, she thinks, but she’s not sure how well she’ll handle it if he tells her he remembers differently, if these things didn’t really happen, or they happened with some other version of Leonard, or—

“That all looks right,” he says, interrupting her thoughts, and she releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “I may object to the ‘stupid hero’ thing, though.”

“Too bad,” she says, turning to face him again. “You earned it.” He smirks, and it’s impossible to look away, his cool blue eyes somehow burning into hers, and she’s remembering that stupid kiss when this is so not the time. She manages to blink, and that’s enough to let her move her attention to his list.

It’s not a big help, not yet, since everything’s related to Central City and stuff that she can’t really confirm, stuff that doesn’t really affect her. They can add to it, though if they find anything new.

And they will, right? It’s not like Gideon would be freaking out if the only changes were things like street names.

“It’s late,” Leonard says finally. “You should head back to the Waverider before you get any worse; you look like you’re falling asleep standing up.”

“I know my limits,” she snaps, then looks at the floor. “Sorry, I’m just…” She waves her hand at their lists. “I’m relieved and I’m frustrated and I swear today’s been the longest day ever.” She looks back at him, and he nods, those blue eyes reflecting understanding again, and she curses. “I don’t want to leave,” she blurts out before she realizes what she’s working toward. “I don’t want to leave, and I’m beat, like you said. Can I…”

She runs out of steam. Despite the exhaustion, she feels even better than she did before they started working on the lists. It's not like all her troubles go away when she's around Leonard. In some ways, they're even harder to ignore, a physical reminder of what’s she’s lost and what she could lose again. Still, though, being near him lets something in her relax in a way she can’t any other time.

“Can I just…” Her words falter again, and she looks down at her bandaged hand. “Nothing. Nevermind, forget it.”

“You can stay here,” Leonard drawls, and her eyes snap up to his, “but there's just the one bed, and I'm not sleeping on the floor.” She nods, and he smirks again. “I'm not cuddling, either."

Sara snorts. “Deal.” She goes straight to the room, collapsing gratefully onto the bed. She hears Leonard doing something in the bathroom, and she takes a moment to shove the single pillow over to his side before he comes in. She’s probably too tired to notice, and it’s his pillow, after all.

He joins her in bed, and she tenses briefly when he quickly adjusts them so one arm pillows her head, his other arm wrapped around her waist, touch unhesitating but not constricting.

“But you didn’t want—”

“If you don’t object,” he interrupts, “just be quiet and go to sleep.”

Sara’s only just awake enough to hear the tolerant amusement in his voice, and she nods against his arm before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we finally got to bed sharing! Okay, so I'm about 92% sure next chapter is going to switch to Leonard POV, just as a heads up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard is alone all day, until he isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scrapped pieces of this chapter because I couldn’t get the right tone, and I rewrote bits of it way more often than usual. I think I struck the right note, finally, a little lighter than it has been but not light and fluffy.
> 
> This chapter is Leonard’s POV. I hope you enjoy!

It's not like his world revolved around her before he died. She was a big part of it, yes, but not the biggest. It wasn't that she didn't have the potential to be; they just weren't there yet. They didn't have time to get there.

Since he's been back, he's not sure that statement still rings true. It's possible it's the monotony of his days, trapped inside, alone, with a shitty TV as his only entertainment, but Sara is the brightest point in his life right now, no competition. Even though she’s only been a couple times, he swears the dingy little house is literally brighter when she's there, and he himself is more awake, more present.

And it's terrifying.

She's his tether, and that's not something he ever quite thought possible. He never thought he'd let himself become so attached to one person, that he'd give just one person such ability to hurt him. Losing Mick, his partner, had been bad enough.

Sara has the potential to destroy him.

His fingers flex against her waist. Her breathing remains slow and deep. There's space between their bodies, but her head rests on his arm, and he's pretty sure this still counts as cuddling.

Another thing he'd never have guessed he'd initiate.

When it came down to it, though, he had an overwhelming desire to help her any way he could, to protect her even though she didn't need it, and getting into bed with her, holding her as much as he could let himself…

It didn't make him feel any more vulnerable than he already was.

Now that she's asleep, though, and he's lying here, one arm going numb and the other fighting warring urges to push her away or pull her close, he's pretty sure it was a bad idea. Maybe she was right, after all, about the “stupid hero” thing.

His not-so-final last minutes flash through his mind, from her look of desperation to the press of her lips against his to his rebellious declaration in front of the Time Masters. He meant it, those last words, and he's amused and frustrated by the irony as it applies to his current existence.

He's tied up by so many strings that they're proving nearly impossible to untangle, from what he can and can't do to how much he can affect the timeline to how much his future feels tied to Sara’s. The latter, at least, is something he wanted before he died.

Leonard sighs, and his breath stirs her hair. He's taken with the sudden, almost overpowering urge to run his fingers through it, but he resists. She's shown him so much trust today, letting him fix her up when clearly she'd refused help from anyone else, agreeing to share a bed, letting him hold her as he is now, but she's shown no desire to participate in a more physical relationship. Not since that goodbye kiss.

He wants to bring that up, wants to see whether she's interested in that sort of relationship, but he doesn't need it, and he's never seen Sara quite like she's been the past couple days. She’s clearly been struggling, and he's determined not to do anything to make that harder on her.

Besides, she's already given him more than he feels he can ask for, more than he deserves.

***

Leonard isn’t really surprised when he wakes alone, the bed still warm. He sighs and rolls to his back before gathering the motivation to get out of bed.

It’s not like he has any pressing engagements he needs to attend to. He doesn’t exist, can’t exist.

Does exist.

He doesn't even have to make the bed since they never got under the covers. Some of Sara’s words from the day before ring through his mind: _I hit and hacked and damaged and I enjoyed it_. She’s not in a good place, and he can’t be with her, can’t even call to check on her, because of this ridiculous gray area he’s living in.

He has to trust that she’s got it, that Mick will keep an eye on her, just in case. Leonard knows she doesn’t need him, not any more than he needs her. That doesn’t mean they can’t make things easier for each other.

He finally gets up and takes a shower, letting the water run over him until it turns cold. Until now, he’s barely noticed the towels that came with the empty house, adjusting quickly enough to their roughness. They’re functional, and he was able to clean them, and that’s all that should matter. Today, though, the abrasive, patchy texture doesn’t sit well with him.

Just how much is he chancing if he picks up a couple of towels from a store across town? He’d have to get there, but he could use the excuse for some more recon anyway after his and Sara’s discussion the night before. He doesn’t have any money, so he’d need to find a way around that, but since when has that stopped him?

If he’s caught stealing, though, he isn’t just risking jail time. Too many people on or connected to the CCPD know him or know of him. It doesn’t seem worth the risk just to lift a couple pieces of cloth.

He’ll need to wait, to either deal with it or force himself to ask Mick for some better towels. Dressed, he snags an apple and bites into it with a grimace. He’ll need to ask Mick for more food, too, since he’s almost out.

He’s been casing a little grocery store about a mile and a half away. He’s nearly certain the security system only displays images in real time, doesn’t record or stream the video. As long as he gets some cash, he’ll at least be able to do his own shopping if that pans out.

Leonard can pick a couple pockets for cash the next time he’s looking for differences in Central City. As long as he avoids the traffic cameras and the better security systems, he should be safe, should remain undetected by the Flash and his crew. He can’t go today, though, not without upsetting his own system; he doesn’t go out more than one day in a row, and he can’t just do every other day.

It’s too predictable.

Without a pressing reason to break his own rules, he can’t go out again until tomorrow. He’s already showered and doesn’t have anything in the house to clean. He’s finished everything for his day, and he’s not even been awake for an hour.

Shit.

Nothing on his few channels worth of television is worth watching, not at this time of day. The few books he’s managed to gather, stashed safely under his bed, he’s read multiple times already.

Leonard paces.

He looks out an uncovered window corner.

He paces some more.

He reads back over his and Sara’s lists, adding another street name to his.

He sprawls out as best he can in the chair in front of the TV.

He gets up and paces.

He takes a nap.

He eats.

He sketches out blueprints of the grocery store, marking the last places he needs to find a way to check.

He paces some more.

When it gets dark outside, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He tries the TV again, wiping the floor with the contestants in Jeopardy, guessing about half the puzzles before the contestants in Wheel of Fortune.

He turns the TV off again and falls face first onto his bed. He lets his mind wander in the dark. All these limitations, the forced monotony, are to save the timeline. The timeline that would still be screwed if he hadn’t saved it.

Serves him right for trying to be a hero.

***

He wakes to the sound of the front door lock being picked. It’s quiet, but in the tiny house and with his experience, the sound is unmistakable for anything else. Leonard reaches under the mattress for a handgun, creeping out of bed and padding toward the front door. He reaches the living room as the door opens, and he readies the gun audibly.

“Honey, I’m home,” comes Mick’s gruff voice, and Leonard sighs as he lowers the gun. Sara comes in the door first, seemingly the one who picked the lock, and Mick’s right behind her.

“Sorry, dinner isn’t on the table,” Leonard returns, leaving the room to put the gun back in its place. “What are you doing here?” he asks his visitors a minute later. “You shouldn’t be here again so soon. It isn’t safe.”

Mick has already turned on the living room light, and the kitchen light follows. “Sara said you had a list. Wanted to see if I could add to it.”

Leonard looks at Sara, who lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, we waited until after eleven like we’re supposed to.”

“Yeah, Boss, we followed the rules. Mostly,” Mick adds. Leonard doesn’t look, keeping his attention on Sara instead.

She looks better. Her skin isn’t overly flushed, isn’t too pale, both of which he’d seen the night before. There’s no obvious blood, and most of the bandages have been removed, but she still has a thin strip of cloth around her left hand.

Catching his look, Sara sends Leonard a wry smile. “I let Gideon help. Just speed things up, not heal everything completely.” She flexes the hand absently. “She said whoever cleaned me up last night didn’t do half bad.”

“Did she, now?” Leonard knows he did fine given his resources and circumstances, but it couldn’t have been even a decent job by the ship’s standards.

“Well, she said you didn’t make it worse.” Sara’s grin is brighter for a moment, more genuine, and he feels an answering tug at his own lips. The monotony, the dreariness of the day, of the past two months, melts away. He and Sara could be standing outside the Waverider’s kitchen instead of outside this one. She’s leaning against the doorframe on one side, and he realizes he’s mirroring her posture on the other. The humor softens into something warm and enticing before he stiffens.

“Who’d you say patched you up?”

Sara shakes her head. “I didn’t. Someone noticed I was out all night, so of course the whole team knew, and everybody assumed I’d hooked up at a bar, and that my hookup had helped.” She crosses her arms. “It works as well as any other explanation, and letting them think that means I don’t have to lie, anyway.”

Her obvious reluctance to hide his presence from the team sends a lance of his own guilt through Leonard. Just knowing he’s here has made things harder on Sara. She might say she’s glad he’s here, but now she has to lie to people she needs to trust, who need to trust her.

He wishes he could regret her presence, but especially after the day he had, the frustratingly common day in which nothing at all had happened, he’s just too selfish. She’s here, and she makes things better, her and Mick both, and if he can only have company some nights, he’s damned well going to enjoy it.

Sara’s still watching him, and it’s like she can follow his thoughts. Maybe she even feels the same, that the nights are worth the rest, however brief they are. Her brow furrows before the tiniest smile crosses her lips. Leonard is immediately, inconveniently reminded of how soft those lips are, of how easily she’d gotten into bed with him the night before. Her smile dies, and something else crosses through her eyes, something more than just warmth.

“I read the lists,” says Mick, breaking into the charged silence. Leonard and Sara both jump as they turn to face him. “Added stuff where I could.”

“Thanks, Mick,” Leonard drawls, raising an eyebrow in question as Mick shifts into a smirk.

“Didn’t know the two of you kissed. Nice of you to do that while I was unconscious.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night passes, and Leonard isn't alone for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mostly Leonard POV. I might not always do a whole chapter in one POV, but the changes should always be clear (and please tell me if they’re ever not). They get their emotions sorted out a little better this chapter, at least until a big plot point coming up later in the story.

_“Didn’t know the two of you kissed. Nice of you to do that while I was unconscious.”_

“I still had time to save your ass,” Sara retorts, and Leonard chuckles, equally relieved and disappointed the moment’s been broken. She moves into the kitchen, leaning on the counter as she reads Mick’s additions to the list. “That’s not a lot of help,” she says, walking back past Leonard as she makes herself comfortable in the living room chair.

Leonard makes his way to the counter to read the adjustments himself. There’s not really a lot. He’s added a couple more street name changes, one of which Leonard knew but had forgotten, and he’s added a couple more details to Sara’s side of the list, only further confirming that they shared a remembered past.

At least for now. What if Sara was right? What if Leonard ends up alone because she and Mick have their memories rewritten?

He shakes his head to clear the thought and turns to Mick. “How’s Sara doing?” he asks, voice low.

Mick shrugs, eyes darting toward the living room before responding in the same quiet tone. “Hard to tell. She’s good right now, but she wouldn’t talk to the team today.”

Sara turns on the TV, and a laugh track filters into the kitchen.

“Wasn’t so much that she let people think she’s meeting someone like she said,” Mick says, a little less cautious now that there’s some noise to cover their conversation. “Was more that she didn’t say anything at all.”

Leonard doesn’t know what else to say. Mick’s obviously already keeping an eye on her, and if anyone can fix whatever’s wrong, it’s Sara herself. His jaw clenches before he forces it to relax.

They don’t need him. His world is better when they’re here, but despite what he thought he saw on Sara’s face, they don’t need him. He’s only making things harder.

“It would be better if you both just stopped coming,” he says, careful to avoid eye contact. “No need to hide things if you forget about me.”

“Doesn’t seem like you should care about a couple lies.”

Leonard finally meets Mick’s gaze. “I don’t.” He jerks his head toward the living room. “She obviously does, or at least about _these_ lies. And there’s no reason you need to sneak out and come all the way out here.” He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “I’ll be out tomorrow, seeing whether I can find anything new. I’ll be able to finish making sure I can get food. You handled tapping me into electricity and water. I’m all set.”

Mick grunts. “Ever think maybe I don’t just come here for you, Boss? Makes me feel useful.” He jerks his head toward the living room. “Blondie comes for her own reasons, too.”

Leonard bows his head. He knows they both have other things going on. The idea that they really get anything from their visits, though, especially when he’d so like not to be here anymore, is hard to accept. He nods finally, not bothering to look up at his friend.

This stewing isn’t him, he knows, but it’s hard to shake when there’s so little he can do. He tries to pull himself back to that grateful hope he felt just minutes earlier. Sara and Mick will have to leave soon, anyway, and if he’s gonna feel bad for himself, he can do it then.

***

They end up gathered around the shitty little television, watching reruns of shittier sitcoms. Sara refuses to move from the chair, so Leonard sprawls on the floor next to it, resting against the chair as best he can without actually touching her. Mick, on the other side of the chair, leans back with his weight against his palms. The floor is hard and probably dirty, layered with years of grime no scrubbing can touch. The house is dark, by necessity as much as lack of function. The television is too small, the reception stuttering at random intervals. The family on screen, though dysfunctional enough to warrant the canned laughter from the audience, has enough love and support as to seem foreign.

It’s the best night Leonard’s had in months.

By the time Mick stands, clearly ready to leave, Leonard has been able to get his mind in order. He’s no longer teetering on the edge of implosion, not letting the self-loathing and boredom take him over. The hope he felt watching Sara has returned. It’s late, or it’s early, depending on how he wants to look at the early-morning hours, and really, his guests should have left some time ago or never come at all. Still, there’s something approaching pain at the thought of their leaving.

He stands, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes before looking at Mick, more than passingly aware of Sara getting slowly from the chair next to him.

“I oughta get back,” Mick mutters. He looks at Sara. “You coming?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, Leonard turns to look at her, too.

She’s already watching him. “I’ll be fine.” It doesn’t really answer the question, but Mick takes it as the dismissal it clearly is.

“See you around, then,” he says before leaving.

The door closes, and then there’s silence as Sara and Leonard watch each other. Sara’s eyes reflect the flickering light of the television, their blue mixing with the yellows and greens of the commercial that’s on. There’s tension again, not the heat or attraction from earlier, but something more, something that makes it hard to breathe as she looks at him.

“You should go.” Leonard’s voice creaks as he forces out the words. It breaks the moment, as he intended, and she blinks before frowning.

“You…” she starts. She closes her eyes. “You left the ship months ago. I didn’t… I ignored it when I could, you know? It hurt too much to think about, especially with Laurel gone, too. And I was okay.” She opens her eyes, looking right at him. “I wasn’t great, maybe. Didn’t really have a purpose, you know? Nothing to keep my mind off everything. I did what I had to on missions, sure, but I just… existed.”

Leonard swallows, all too familiar with the concept, and Sara continues. “And I think the past few days have kind of brought everything to a head. I couldn’t ignore any of it anymore, and trying to…” She waves her bandaged hand to illustrate the consequences of that attempt. “But I think I’m gonna be okay, maybe even good again. It’s like…” She rolls her eyes when she trails off again, looking frustrated at her frequent pauses. “It’s like I can breathe again, as stupid as that sounds, and as long as I can keep breathing, I can get through the rest. I can make everything else okay.”

Leonard nods, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. Maybe he was wrong when he decided they didn’t need each other.

“I get it,” he says. He needs to hold on to this feeling, this moment, through the long days he knows are ahead. He needs to hold on to _her_ , but he knows that keeping her around only makes it more likely he’ll lose her altogether. If they’re seen together by the wrong person, if somebody notices her coming and going, if they just relax into each other and slip up… So many things could go wrong.

“You should still go,” he says, his voice low. “It isn’t safe.” Sara breaks her gaze and looks down, mouth pulling down to one side. “When you’re here,” he continues, “we can…” He fumbles for the words. “We can help each other _be_.” He swallows. That was a lot sappier than he intended. “But you can’t come more often than you need to, and you shouldn’t come early or stay so late. It isn’t safe,” he repeats, watching, waiting for her response, waiting for her to leave.

“It helped,” she says, looking resolutely at the floor, “staying here last night. Things weren’t so hard today, and like I said, I think things will keep getting better, but I just… I don’t want to go back to my room, alone, where I can talk myself out of being okay. I know I left early this morning, but that was still the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

How the hell can he send her home after that?

He sighs, fighting both frustration and affection. “Fine. But this has to be the last night.”

She looks up at him, and the relief in her expression almost breaks him. “Thanks, Len.”

“We should get some sleep,” he says, telling himself as much as he’s telling her. “I’ve got to do some more recon tomorrow, and I don’t want to make any sloppy mistakes.”

***

Leonard wakes once, shortly before dawn. Sara’s back is flush with his chest, and she’s holding his arm tightly against her middle. She radiating warmth, almost too much to be comfortable, but her breath rises and falls evenly, and as he holds his own breath, trying to decide whether he should move, she makes a contented little humming noise in her sleep before falling silent once more.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he focuses on her breath, on her soft warmth against him, until he falls back to sleep.

***

When Sara wakes, Leonard is wrapped around her, his breath falling against her neck. She knows it’s a little after sunrise, more from instinct than from the tiny bits of light that make their way through the window coverings, and that she needs to get back to the Waverider.

She stays put for several minutes first. She thought Leonard was dead, and now he’s holding her tight in a way she never knew she needed, the warm puffs of air and the heartbeat thumping against her back both proof that he’s very much alive.

Once she knows she can’t put off leaving any longer, she disentangles herself as carefully as she can, determined not to wake him. She only lets herself look down at him for a moment before she leaves, saving the image for the walk back to the ship.

He looks so relaxed in his sleep. Sara herself feels more calm and centered today, in control of herself in a way she hasn’t been in longer than she cares to admit.

The sleepy neighborhood is waking up, and she makes a mental note to leave a little earlier next time she stays. And she _will_ be staying again, and soon, as often as she can manage. She remembers the different ways Leonard looked at her the night before.

Like she reminded him how to smile.

Like she was impossible to say no to.

Like she was the sun in his dark.

Unless he tells her not to come back and seems like he actually means it, she fully intends to see those looks again, as often as possible. Being around him helps, but she’d figured that out already. Last night, she realized that her presence is at least as much of a help to him.

They need each other, at least until everything goes back to normal, and in the soft morning light, hope filling her for the first time in ages, she’s willing to admit that she believes everything _will_ go back to normal again, even if it takes a while.

_Speaking of normal_ , she thinks to herself as she approaches the Waverider. Jax is standing just outside the ship, waiting for her with his arms crossed, trying for impatience. Instead, he looks concerned at first, and then as he reads her body language, he relaxes, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“We were ready to leave five minutes ago,” he says. “I hope your night out was worth the delay.” What he thinks she was doing with her night out is clear without being lewd.

Sara smirks. “You know what?” she says, leading the way up the ramp. “It was totally worth it.”

“You know what,” Jax echoes as the ship closes behind them, “I’m not sure whether I wanted to know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plotty things next chapter, and we’ll switch back to Leonard POV and see what he does with a day out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has a day out of the house. There are a couple complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I plotted out the rest of this story, and it’s looking like it’s gonna weigh in at 15 chapters plus an epilogue. 
> 
> Disclaimer: there’s some crime in this chapter, and while I tried to make everything logical, it’s not exactly anything I have experience with ;)

Leonard speeds through his morning routine after waking later than intended. He takes his normal path out of the neighborhood, one he’s learned will keep him away from any of the homes where people watch the outdoors. So many of the houses are abandoned that it really isn’t difficult.

In order to get to the store he’s been casing, he has to make a large circle. He cuts through a few different unmonitored alleys, where his oversized hoodie doesn’t draw any attention. There’s only one part of the trek that puts him on edge, one busy street he has to cross, just barely out of reach of any facial recognition systems. Central City has a lot of those, and he knows Team Flash is hooked up to them all. At this particular point, if he crosses too far in either direction, he’ll be on their footage, if anyone happens to look.

While it’s the riskiest if he makes a wrong move, it’s also one of the better places to pick pockets, the people who comprise much of the foot traffic being affluent enough to carry a decent amount of cash for tips and the like. The fewer people he has to steal from, the less chance he’ll be noticed. Picking pockets has never been his preferred form of thievery, but there’s still something of a thrill about it, about stealing in plain sight of others, with minimal time to plan.

He chooses his mark while he’s crossing the street. He and the man, who’s already bumped impatiently into three others, will end up at the same point at the sidewalk at the same time if Leonard just speeds up the tiniest bit.

One little bump and a muttered apology, and Leonard has the wallet in the front pocket of his hoodie, his mark none the wiser. Without looking, Leonard takes the cash out of the wallet. A casual glance down the street to make sure nobody’s looking directly at him, and he lets the wallet, now without cash but otherwise intact, fall to the ground as he strides briskly into another unmonitored alley.

He crosses to the opposite side of the alley, knowing that a dumpster and the natural shadows work together to make him virtually invisible from the scene of his crime. Something makes him turn around and look once he’s safely out of sight. He waits only a second before he sees a familiar brunette come to a stop by the discarded wallet. When she looks around, he pulls back farther into the shadows.

It’s Caitlin Snow. Not just a member of Team Flash, but a member of Team Flash who he kidnapped.

She doesn’t seem to see him, and she bends down to pick up the wallet. She flips it open, probably looking for ID, then closes it, looking around once more before moving on.

Leonard breathes. Of anyone who shouldn’t see him, Caitlin is probably near the top of the list. He moves on, cautiously, waiting until he’s about a quarter mile away before he checks his haul.

He now has $100 in twenties. It’s not even significant compared to some of the things he’s stolen, but it’ll feed him for at least a couple weeks without other outside assistance, longer if he budgets like he did as a kid, and that was the goal. Plus, he doesn’t think Caitlin saw him. Barry would have already shown up if that were the case.

Leonard makes it to the little grocery store without further incident. It’s a small store with enough windows that he’s been able to check most of it for surveillance without having to go close enough to be noticed, but for this last spot, he needs to see in a corner he can only check by being right up against a window or going inside. He walks alongside the building, stopping by a window and acting like he’s checking his watch.

It’s safe. For whatever reason, this building doesn’t have video surveillance, at least not of any variety he’s familiar with, and while the store is in a nice enough part of town to have unbroken and unbarred windows, it’s not in the part of town that can afford cameras he can’t spot.

He goes inside, keeping his hood up, but not as far forward as he has been, not wanting to look more suspect than he has to. The windows, though, and the low but present potential for running into someone he knows, mean he can’t quite let down his guard entirely. He grabs a basket and starts selecting things that are cheap and easy to make in his tiny kitchen. He gets pasta, some cheap meat, and the vegetables that are on sale. He pauses by the broccoli, wondering whether Sara likes it in creamy pasta, then shakes his head.

He shouldn’t be worrying about cooking for Sara. She shouldn’t be coming over, especially around dinner time, and it’s not like they’re… As much as he feels about her, they aren’t dating, and he shouldn’t be worried about impressing her that way.

The broccoli ends up in his basket somehow anyway, along with some chicken and a jar of alfredo sauce. He doesn’t really look at the cashier as he pulls out the bills he needs to cover his total, making a mental note to find an empty wallet. When he does look up as he picks up his bags, only years of experience let him keep a neutral expression, despite the fact that the cashier clearly doesn’t recognize him. Leonard exits the store as quickly as he can without drawing attention and starts toward home.

He doesn’t even remember the man’s name, but he’d been the second-in-command of a rival of sorts, and if the man had lived through the same past as Leonard, there would definitely have been some recognition.

Plus there’s the fact the man died in a badly planned heist gone wrong.

Except, clearly, that’s not the case anymore. If he’s working as a grocery store cashier, he’s probably not still involved in crime as a full-time job, either. He doesn’t give off that vibe, and Leonard has an excellent sense for that sort of thing.

While carrying the few grocery bags such a long way home is a little awkward, they offer him their own sort of camouflage; if people do notice him, they look straight at the bags, then away. It helps him blend in with some of the areas, and with others, it acts as sort of a visual repellant, something that says, “I’m too poor to afford transportation. Don’t look at me; it might be catching.”

He’s still wondering about the man–Rob? Ron? Something forgettable–when he gets home. Even without any recognition, he’s not sure he should go back. This is someone he interacted with in his previous life, and that falls clearly into the “don’t do it” category.

Then again, so does spending time with Sara and Mick, and yet he finds himself hoping, as he puts away his groceries, that one of them shows up today. It hasn’t exactly been the boring, uneventful day he had yesterday, and he shouldn’t have this need for company. He’s used to coming up with his own plans, sharing them only once he’s satisfied, not consulting unless there’s real need, but the past couple hours have been a lot.

He can’t help but picture telling Sara, getting her input. He puts the broccoli away and turns to their list, the addition of another once-dead person being the most noteworthy difference yet, saving Leonard’s own reappearance. He stares at the list, looking for patterns and finding none, until he’s drawn to that item on hers again.

_I kissed you and then you died like a stupid hero_

If everything was safe for him again, if he could do whatever he wanted without fear of destroying the timeline, what would he choose? Would he be the crook? The hero? Somewhere in between? He doesn’t think he’d go back to his old life, the life before the Waverider. He’s changed, and as much as Sara was a large part of that, he knows change is impossible without internal motivation as well. He was ready for something different before they left, or he’d never have gotten on the Waverider in the first place.

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, closing his eyes at the sudden, strong reminder of Sara’s uneven breath against his lips.

Shit. Forget hero or crook; he’s turning into a sap who’s so gone on a person that it’s ridiculous. Some of it, he knows, is just the extended solitude.

Interacting with a once-dead guy long enough to buy groceries doesn’t really count.

The rest of it, though, is just Sara. He thinks about holding her the night before, about how much he hopes she listens to him and stays away, about how much he hopes she doesn’t.

He shakes his head at himself and then goes about the rest of his day. By the time it’s completely dark outside, he’s decided he can’t go back to that grocery store after all, and that Sara probably shouldn’t come tonight, but he’s not going to turn her away if she does.

They can have one more night. Besides, he needs to update either her or Mick on what happened today. He’s not sure he’ll mention the Caitlin thing, since nothing actually _happened_ , but finding he’s not the only other person alive who shouldn’t be is something.

When he thinks about it too hard, he realizes he’s fighting a not insignificant amount of jealousy that the other man can go about his life in a normal way.

The door opening interrupts his brooding. “Don’t you knock?” he drawls when he recognizes Sara’s gait, pushing away the swell of gratitude that she’s here.

“When I feel like it,” Sara shoots back, grinning at him. She looks at the television, then tilts her head at Leonard. “You’re sitting here staring at a TV that isn’t even on?”

“At least I’m not in the dark this time.” He stands, walking toward Sara and stopping just a hair closer than he knows he should. “You’re early.”

She shrugs. “Not like we had a standing date. And you know I can get in and out of here without being seen anytime I want.”

He knows she can, knows she’s more than capable, but he’s always been so aware of her that it’s hard to actually imagine her going unnoticed.

He doesn’t say this aloud. “I haven’t eaten,” he says instead. “Do you like broccoli?”

***

They end up eating in his bed, shoulders touching as they lean back against the headboard. Somehow, they find light topics, or at least light for them, until they’re done. Dishes set aside, Leonard turns to the day’s events.

“I went out today,” he says, staring at his jean-clad knees, “and found another change. A person who should be dead but isn’t. He’s out there, interacting, doing what he wants, but he’s completely different than he was before, from what I could tell. And he’s alive.”

There’s quiet for a minute before Sara speaks. “He’s gotta fit in with the new time changes, then, right?” Leonard looks up at her, meeting her eyes. “I mean, you’re from the old timeline, so you don’t fit. The rest of the team is, too, but we must not be different enough for it to be a problem. Either that, or it just hasn’t changed us yet.”

He nods and looks away. It makes sense. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She lifts her hand, hesitating before covering his, squeezing, and letting go. “I know it has to suck being stuck here. And then you go out today and things get worse instead of better. But you’re… If anyone can get through all this, it’s you, you know that, right?”

He meets her eyes again, seeing cautious hope and encouragement.

“You’re smart,” she continues. “You’re not gonna do anything too stupid, and it’s not like you’re a social butterfly or anything”–Leonard smirks at the idea–“and I _know_ this isn’t gonna last forever. And until it ends, just… Even if me and Mick aren’t here, you’re not really alone. Okay?”

She’s warm against his shoulder, and her eyes are so bright and blue and earnest, and he has to close his own before he does anything stupid. “Thanks, Sara.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Leonard have what basically amounts to a date, even if neither of them is going to call it that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lighter chapter before shit hits the fan next update.
> 
> Also, I wanted to take a second to thank everyone for reading. It means so much to get the kudos and comments, really.
> 
> This chapter ran a little long, as well as a lot fluffy for this story. I hope nobody minds ;) 
> 
> Thanks to Tavyn for letting me ramble and checking for migraine-related issues.

Things with the team aren’t easy, but they’re easier. She’s able to relax again.

Plus, it’s easier than she wants to admit to pretend she’s sneaking out every night to meet up with a lover.

Not that they’ve _done_ anything, of course, not even after she spent the night again. They’d had dinner together in his bed, talking like they used to when they played cards, and everything just… She hasn’t felt so grounded in a long time. And then he didn’t argue later when she burrowed under the covers instead of leaving, just let her do it, joining her a few minutes afterward.

Now, she’s on the bridge with the rest of the crew, better rested than she’s been in months. It’s like she can see clearly again, and she’s ready to go on a mission on something other than autopilot.

So of course, Rip announces there’s no mission that day.

“What?” Ray asks before Sara can. “I thought we were doing the thing today, you know, so we could–”

Rip stops him with a shake of his head. “Some of Gideon’s readings are a little off. Jax and I will get her recalibrated without any real difficulty, but it will, unfortunately, take most of the day. We can resume the mission tomorrow.”

Mick snorts and starts muttering something about being _allowed_ to abandon the mission for a day. Ray looks around almost aimlessly before asking whether there’s anything he can do to help. The rest of the team starts trailing from the room.

Sara’s already making a plan.

It’s not like Rip doesn’t let them have days off. They’re volunteers now, and he doesn’t hold them hostage. Still, there’s not been a down day like this since she’s had a reason to want one. She knows she isn’t supposed to show up at Len’s place during the day, that she was pushing it even showing up just after dark the night before, but she has an idea, and she fully intends to run with it.

She stops by the fabricator before heading to her room and filling a backpack with what she’ll need. She hesitates before adding an outfit that’s technically for working out but is also comfortable enough to sleep in; sleeping in whatever she’s wearing is getting old, and as much as she’d love to see Leonard’s reaction, she’s not to the point of stripping to her underwear to crawl into bed with him. As she goes to put the comfortable clothing in the backpack, there’s a light knock on her door frame.

She glances up and sees Amaya, one of the newer members of the team. “Come on in,” Sara says. Amaya comes and sits carefully on Sara’s bed. The other woman’s tentative movements abruptly force Sara to realize how disconnected she’s been from everything since the Oculus. Her own movements slow, and she sets the backpack down so she can sit next to Amaya, who she’d probably have befriended by now under any other circumstances.

The rest of her team shouldn’t be hesitant to talk to her.

“What’s up?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“You’ve seemed better,” Amaya says. She gestures to the backpack. “Is this for… whoever it is you’ve been seeing?”

Sara nods. “Figured since we have the day off, I wouldn’t just stay the night.” It’s not like the fact she’s been out all night, every night, is a secret. Much of her still wishes she could tell the team the whole truth, but this, at least, feels close to it.

“The person makes you happy?” There’s a trace of sadness in Amaya’s voice, and Sara remembers she’s lost someone, too.

“Yeah, he does.” When the room is quiet again, Amaya moves to stand.

“I just wanted to make sure,” she says.

Sara gestures for her to sit back down, biting back a hint of impatience; Leonard doesn’t expect her, anyway, and maybe she can start to fix how she’s been treating her teammates. “You settling in okay on the Waverider?”

***

Sara ends up talking to Amaya longer than she means to, but she’s still on her way to Leonard’s before lunch. While she’s still on guard, making sure nobody follows her or sees her too close to his place, there’s a spring in her step that she’s missed. For a moment, she slows down; there’s no way she can be happy–she’s _happy_ –for long before something happens to ruin it. She shakes her head and picks up the pace again.

Not today. Maybe everything will come crashing down before it gets back to normal, but not today. She can feel it.

Sara knocks on Leonard’s door, a jaunty pattern she hopes will get him to the door sooner than a standard knock; the house is “empty,” after all, so he wouldn’t want to answer the door for a routine visit, and she’s pretty sure trying to pick his lock in the middle of the day is a horrible idea.

It’s still a solid minute before he opens the door, and Sara is fidgeting by that point. He lets her inside before he says anything. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning against the door he’s closed behind them, a scowl on his face.

“Either your clock is broken,” he says, “or you are very bad at telling time.”

Sara studies him for a couple seconds. He’s frowning, sure, but he doesn’t actually look upset. A little frustrated, maybe, but not angry. Plus, if he actually wanted her gone, he wouldn’t have let her in, wouldn’t be blocking the door.

She rolls her eyes. “I wanted to do something with you today, and it wouldn’t work if I waited until tonight. Plus, I’ve actually got the day off.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “What couldn’t wait for night time?”

She walks over to the living room chair and sets down her backpack, pulling out what she’d grabbed from the fabricator. “I got us disguises. Prosthetic makeup, too.” She holds up a bag with some skin-colored lumps. “We put these on your cheekbones and stuff, and it makes it so you won’t come up on any automated searches. It’s not safe for all the time, because someone still might be able to tell it’s you if they look closely enough, but it’ll fool the computers for a day.”

He’s standing there, staring at her, and she lowers the bag.

“I thought it might be good, you know, for you to get out of the house without having to hide the whole time,” she says. “This was the first thing that came to mind, and I thought it might actually work. We don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he interrupts, moving toward her. “What else do you have?”

Sara grins. “There’s face stuff for me, too, ‘cause I figure it’s less of a leap to recognize you if someone sees one of the team. And then we’ve got tourist outfits.” She holds up the pale, tropical shirts proudly. They don’t quite match, but it’s close. They scream tourist, but the color is subtle enough that they’re not going to draw a lot of unwanted attention.

“We’re supposed to wear those?” He pours skepticism into his drawl, but Sara can see the amusement in his eyes.

“Hey, these kinds of shirts are actually pretty expensive,” Sara says in mock protest. “Besides, nobody would expect you to be wearing this with khakis.” She rummages in the bag again, pulling out the pants she grabbed, and Leonard snorts. “Go ahead and change, and then we’ll do makeup.” She grabs him one more item, a long-sleeved, white shirt to go under the hawaiian one, and he nods gratefully before going to change.

Glancing down the short hallway, she sees that Leonard’s gone into the bedroom to change, so she ducks into the bathroom. When she’s finished, she glances in the mirror and has to bite down a laugh.

She looks ridiculous, and she can’t even see the whole outfit. There are people this looks good on, sure, but she’s not one of them. Maybe it’s not even that she looks ridiculous; she just doesn’t look like herself, which is the whole point of it, anyway.

When she comes out of the bathroom, Leonard’s waiting, and he looks less himself than she does. She doesn’t want to laugh, though. He looks soft, exposed even though all his skin is still covered, like someone who lived a life neither of them did. He seems to be waiting for some reaction, so she smiles at him softly.

“Come on, let’s do makeup.” She leads him back to the chair, moving her backpack so he can sit. “It'll be quicker if we take turns. I can do yours first, and we've got the best light in here.”

She needs to look at him straight on to get everything even, but his legs are too long, and they get in the way until he moves them far enough apart for her to stand between them.

It takes an inordinate amount of focus not to take advantage of the situation. She tries her best to view it objectively, changing his face with the advanced makeup. She mostly succeeds, setting aside for later the fact that he lets her touch his face without flinching, until she's nearly finished.

“Costume makeup isn’t really my area,” she says, smoothing one last line of makeup over synthetic skin into something that looks more natural, “but this stuff is pretty easy to work with.” She slows, her thumb pausing on his natural skin when she realizes how closely he’s watching her.

The pads on his upper face change his look even more than she expects, and the ones on his cheeks change his smirk, but his eyes are still his, and there’s so much in them that she needs to look away, but she can’t seem to manage it.

“That didn’t take long at all,” she says, hearing her voice croak. It gives her the strength she needs to back up. “Go look in the mirror and see if you like it, and then you can do mine.”

***

Leonard looks in the mirror, fighting the urge to throw cold water in his face since that’ll completely ruin the makeup job that got him so wound up in the first place.

Having her so close, with them both awake and neither of them in distress, was hard, especially with her touching him like she was. She started out professional, but her touches got softer as she went until they were nearly caresses.

The face staring back at him in the mirror isn’t his, he’ll give her that. He takes a steadying breath before going back to the living room to take his turn.

He wants to say he does a better job at staying professional than Sara, but that would be a lie. She closes her eyes while he works, almost gravitating toward his touch as he smooths a powdered thumb over her freckles. The makeup changes her face, as it’s supposed to, but he can still see her underneath, can still feel her when he traces her jawline.

He clears his throat and backs away as soon as he’s finished. She looks a little disoriented as she blinks at him.

He knows the feeling.

“Where are we going today, anyway?” he asks, fairly certain he manages a normal tone.

“Wherever you want,” she says. “I mean, we can’t interact with anyone you _know_ , but I thought it’d be good to let you pick. If you weren’t under house arrest, where would you go?”

***

Their day is completely ordinary and almost perfect. They go to a museum, where Leonard plans through how he’d steal each item that catches his attention, whispering pieces of plans to Sara and making her laugh. They eat at the museum restaurant, some overpriced food that Sara makes a show of paying for. They take turns taking photos of each other, of some random fountain and stupid birds, with a disposable camera Sara produces, even knowing they’ll need to wait until everything’s safe before they get the film developed.

After the first hour, Leonard doesn’t really see the makeup anymore, doesn’t see the unusual clothes, just sees Sara again. The physical tension is less in public; even with the disguises, they have to be a little on guard, and it helps, as does the potential audience. Despite that, though, Leonard is able to soak up the day. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to get through another week or two of solitude fueled solely by memories of this day, and he’s equally sure that was what prompted her to do this in the first place.

They go back to his little shack after dinner. There’s still the joy, but he feels it slip some at the thought that she’ll be leaving soon.

He really shouldn’t have worried.

She tosses her backpack back on the chair and pulls out some clothes he hasn’t seen yet. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed,” she says casually, turning to him and raising her eyebrow almost in challenge.

“You can’t stay here every night.” It kills him to say it, especially after the day they’ve had, and he’s not sure whether it makes it better or worse when she just smirks at him.

“Whatever you say, Snart.”

“Sara…” He trails off as she approaches him.

“Look, I know you’re trying to be responsible and all,” she says from much too close, “and you can keep telling me I can’t stay here if you want. I won’t come over during the day anymore, ‘cause great as today was, I know that’s not a good idea. Staying here at night, though, isn’t gonna hurt anyone, so I’m gonna be here as often as I can.”

He does intend to keep arguing her visits, because as much as he appreciates them, they really aren’t the safest course of action. She’s clearly made up her mind, though, so he won’t waste any more breath on debating the issue tonight. He nods, and she rests her hand on his chest for a moment before she turns and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

It’s not until he reaches his bedroom that he realizes how domestic this whole situation is. The day they shared, and now she’s getting ready to get in bed, the bed that she’ll share with him. He expects panic, but he doesn’t feel it, not at the normalcy of their being together amongst all the uncertainty.

He does have an _oh crap_ sort of moment when he realizes he doesn’t have anything to wear to bed, really. He would rather not sleep in his jeans again, or even in the softer khakis, but when he’s alone, he sleeps in his boxers. He looks toward the hallway, then shrugs to himself before stripping down to boxers and undershirt and getting under the covers.

It’s Sara. It’s not like he’s any more exposed sleeping like this than he has been the past couple nights, anyway.

He doubts his decision for more than a second when he sees her come into the room. She’s wearing soft, athletic leggings, and an oversized shirt that does nothing to hide the fact there’s nothing underneath it. He snaps his eyes back to her face in time to see her finish checking out his arms, and he laughs internally at how silly they’re both acting.

“Come on,” he says, and it breaks the moment. She gets into bed as if nothing’s out of the ordinary, shutting off the light and scooting toward the middle of the mattress. He hesitates only a couple seconds before he puts his arm over her. She scoots back into him, humming contentedly, and the room falls silent.

For about five minutes.

“Len? I’m not actually tired yet.”

They end up talking. He’s not sure for how long, only that he loves listening to her, loves the feel of her voice vibrating against his chest, loves how still she gets when she’s listening to him. By the time they’re both finally falling asleep, he’s almost managed to forget everything that’s weighing on them, waiting to bring them down.

This is the best day he’s had in so long he can’t remember. He thinks he tells her as much, but it might only be a dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Leonard continue seeing each other nightly. Sara faces some unexpected foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look, I finally got around to the original drabble (albeit slightly edited for flow and context) that started this whole thing.
> 
> This chapter starts out a bit fluffy and then goes downhill from there. 
> 
> Continued thanks to Tavyn for ongoing feedback!

Leonard wakes when Sara does the next morning, and there’s a minute in which they’re both very aware of how they’ve slept. Neither of them moves, but Sara can tell by his breathing and by how still he is that he’s awake. His arm is around her, and she’s turned to face him in her sleep. Her head is tucked under his so that they’re both partially on the pillow. One of her hands is under the pillow, and the other rests against his chest.

“You should go,” Leonard says, his voice rough with sleep or tension or both, his fingers a warm, insistent presence against her back.

Sara presses against his chest, scooting back far enough to look at him. “I’m going,” she says. “Just gimme a second.”

He watches her while she wakes up, which admittedly doesn’t take long with him so close, their mingled scents around her, his eyes on her face like he’s memorizing her. He seems to sense when she’s awake enough for something resembling conversation.

“You shouldn’t come back tonight, either. Not unless something big happens, such as someone finding out I’m here.” His face is a little too neutral as he speaks.

“Those are valid points,” she says, letting him take that as agreement and getting out of bed before she can do anything stupid. “I’ll lock the door on my way out so you can go back to sleep.”

***

Sara ignores his advice, of course, but she does wait until later than usual to show up at his place that night.

He opens the door before she can finish picking the lock. He stands there, blocking the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “You really shouldn’t show up at 3 a.m. and expect me to open the door.”

“I didn’t, clearly,” she says, waving her little metal tools before putting them away.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t show up unless I’d been found or something big had changed. Has something changed?”

Sara puts her hands on her hips. “No. And I thought we agreed you’d tell me not to come, but I’d do it anyway.”

She’s starting to wonder whether he’s actually serious, and she has a sinking feeling in her gut until he smirks. He’s playing her, the ass.

“If there weren’t any changes,” he drawls, ignoring her latter statement, “that means someone found me, but I don’t think you’d be alone if that were the case.”

Two can play at this game. She drops her hands to her sides. “I tried to sleep,” she says, and she had, sort of, to pass the time before coming over, “but I just started thinking about the team and how I can’t really talk to any of them.” She feels a stab of guilt for the attempt at manipulation until she sees he’s still smirking.

He doesn’t buy it for a minute.

Still, his expression turns mock serious. “Fine. I suppose you can come inside.” He pauses before reaching out a hand. She takes it slowly, and he gently pulls her in the house before letting go and shutting the door behind them. “Come on, Sara. Let’s get some sleep.”

***

The next night, she comes ready with an excuse.

“Ran away from a fight, had a tail. It was safer to get here than to get back to the ship. Mind if I crash?”

It becomes something of a thing. She shows up, makes up a wild tale explaining why she needs to sleep there, and he humors her, latching onto the excuse as if it’s valid.

“I got in a fight with the nerds when I lied and told them I didn’t like Star Wars. They banished me from the ship.”

“I got lost and this is the only place I could think of.”

“My bed was too soft, and I needed a ratty old mattress to sleep on.”

“Nate took over my bed and turned it into a pool table since I wasn’t using it.”

She doesn’t even notice, at first, when the casual contact that’s become almost normal in the bedroom starts spilling out into the rest of the house. There’s handholding on the way to the bedroom not infrequently. There’s a hand on the shoulder after a hard day for one or both of them, an absent trail of fingers along a back as they pass. Most of it’s Sara initiating, sure, but not all of it.

It’s when she wipes his face during a shared meal and he doesn’t react that she really notices, realizes just how much they’ve been touching.

It scares her.

The time away from Leonard, time spent with the team, is getting more and more back to normal. She’s established a rapport with the newer team members. She and Amaya find at least a little time together most days, and she teases Nate mercilessly, his good nature making it easy. She challenges Rip when he needs it, listens to him when it’s what’s best for the team, talks to him alone when he’s clearly getting pushed too far.

And yet, there’s an undercurrent there. The longer everything goes smoothly, the more she’s sure the end is coming, and soon. Something’s wrong, and it’s not just that so much is going right. She feels more than a little sympathy for Leonard, back at the Vanishing Point, when he knew shit was going south and couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.

There’s no new information. Nobody else on the team has noticed the changes in time, and per Gideon’s instructions, Sara hasn’t talked to them about it. The waiting is increasingly getting to her, and it doesn’t help that hiding Leonard’s existence feels worse the closer she gets to the team.

She pushes the fear and guilt away during the day, when she’s doing what she needs to, when she’s being a _person_ again, but it creeps in when she waits for the time of night that it’s safe to visit Leonard.

And then when she’s actually with him, it all sort of fades away. It’s not like any of the problems actually stop. Sometimes they’re worse, like when she lets herself think about what, exactly, is at stake; she feels a sort of panic she’s never felt before, like the potential loss is more than she can handle, more than she’ll survive even after all she’s been through.

But then she looks at him and remembers he’s here, and she hasn’t lost him, and that she’ll do everything in her power to keep it that way, that he’s not exactly going down again without a fight.

In all, it’s one of the hardest times of her life. Laurel’s still gone, Leonard’s back but with so many limitations, and Sara’s hiding something every minute of the day, information she _knows_ is vital and relevant.

It’s also one of the best times of her life. She hasn’t slept so well since before the Gambit, even if it’s only a few hours some nights. She hasn’t had a place that felt like home in ages, either, and now she has two; the Waverider and Leonard’s.

So she waits. She waits for a change. Mostly, she knows, she waits for an ending, an end to the hiding, an end to her current way of life, for better or for worse.

***

“Despite the recent recalibration,” Rip announces one day, “Gideon’s readings are again inconsistent with what they should be. We have to consider that there’s an aberration we need to deal with here, in this time, in Central City.”

Sara feels her heart sink. What if it’s Len? It shouldn’t be, not if Gideon’s blocking him out, but maybe that’s why the ship doesn’t know what the problem is. She glances at Mick, who gives her the tiniest shake of his head; they shouldn’t mention Leonard, shouldn’t worry about it, not yet.

Rip brings up a map of the city, zooming in until he’s showing a smaller area, covering just a quarter mile radius. She exhales as she sees it’s several miles from Leonard’s hideout, and she sees Mick relax, too.

“I don’t exactly know what we’re going to find,” the captain continues, “only that at this point, the disturbance is registering as large enough that we should be able to find it with little trouble. We’ll head to this area together, and then we’ll split up. Everyone will be wearing their communications devices, so if you find what we’re searching for, you will inform the rest of the team.”

They disperse to suit up, and Sara corners Mick.

“It’s not him, right?” she whispers after making sure everyone else is out of earshot.

He shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Boss wouldn’t go to that part of town. Used to have a hideout there; he’d end up running into someone he knows that way.”

Sara nods. “Okay. I still wanna check on him after this, early as we can. Maybe this has something to do with all the time changes he’s been finding.”

Mick grunts. “Depending how this plays out, team might be restless tonight. I won’t be able to join you.”

“That’s fine,” Sara says, quieting when she hears footsteps. “We better get ready.”

The team makes it to the center of the temporal disturbance and splits up. Sara starts in the direction that is closest to Leonard’s place; if she and Mick are wrong and this does have something to do with him, she wants to be the one to find out.

Sara’s only been looking for a few minutes when she hears something that sounds wrong, the type of footsteps that don’t belong in this shady, rundown part of town.

“Hello, Sara.” The slick voice is familiar, and she knows even before she turns that she’ll see Malcolm Merlyn. She tightens her grip on her staff as she confirms it.

He isn’t alone. There’s another with him, and Sara recognizes the overly bright hair and eyes of Damien Darhk. A third person is just out of sight in the deep shadows cast by two buildings, just an impression of careful movement, but faced with the man who had her killed and the man who killed her sister, she simply makes a note not to forget the additional opponent. Any thought of alerting the team to what’s going on is missing as she gives her full attention to the two in front of her.

“Merlyn. Darhk. What are you two doing here? And how are _you_ ”–she looks at Damien–“not dead?” Oliver had gotten a message to the time ship when Laurel’s killer had finally gotten what he deserved. It had helped, some, but it had also taken away Sara’s hope at her own revenge.

“We’re here to fix time,” Darhk says smoothly, his tone one of complete belief that what he’s doing is right.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Merlyn adds, grinning at her as his eyes burn with hatred.

“Hard to fix time without a time ship,” Sara says, shifting her weight as subtly as she can. Her League training isn’t going to be as much help with these two as it usually is.

Darhk’s voice is even as he responds. “How convenient that we’ve got a way around that.”

They have access to time travel? That might explain how Darhk is back. No matter, though, because–

“You can’t use time travel if you’re already dead,” she growls, but before she can attack, Merlyn holds up a hand, dark amusement reaching his eyes this time.

“You haven’t said hello to our other member yet,” he says lightly. Sara focuses back on the shadows behind them as he continues. “That isn’t very polite, is it, Captain Cold?”

_What?_

“No, it isn’t.” The familiar drawl hits her hard; she can’t help but react positively to his voice, and yet, there’s something very wrong about the timing of it. There’s something even worse about the absolute lack of affection in his tone.

He steps out of the darkness, and there’s no doubt that this is Leonard Snart. He’s wearing a parka, one she hasn’t seen in a long time, the hood up, light reflecting almost sinisterly off his goggles.

“Len?” Her mind races as he walks confidently toward her, cold gun in hand, and she barely registers the other two melting away into the shadows. How is Leonard here? _Why_ is he here? Why is he with _them_?

Any illusion she’s entertaining that he might be the Leonard she knows is dashed when he sneers at her. “Hello, Canary. We meet at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be posting updates Mondays and Fridays, so you’ll have another update in about 4 days. In the meantime, let me know what you think? I got pretty emotional writing this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara faces off against Legion!Leonard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna go ahead and give Tavyn full-on beta credit on this one :) It was a hard chapter, and I needed a lot of reassurances, and she’s awesome.
> 
> Also awesome, this fic has been nominated, along with some fantastic company, for best WIP at captaincanaryawards.tumblr.com. 
> 
> Everyone is just amazing, is basically the theme here.
> 
> Chapter warning for intense fight scene followed by emotional response.

_Any illusion she’s entertaining that he might be the Leonard she knows is dashed when he sneers at her. “Hello, Canary. We meet at last.”_

Sara feels the blood drain from her face.

“Sorry to use clichés,” he says, coming to a stop before he’s close enough for her to disarm him, “but I’ve heard all about you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers. She’s knows this isn’t _her_ Leonard, but it slips out, anyway.

“What?” He tilts his head to the side. He didn’t hear her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says again, louder this time, fixing her stance so she’s prepared for the fight that feels inevitable.

“I disagree.” He studies her almost casually, at odds with the ready grip on his gun. “This is my part of _my_ town. You’re the one who shouldn’t be here.” He pauses, and there’s a cruel edge to his expression that she’s seen before, but never aimed at her. “Heard you’ve already been killed. Wonder what it would take to make it stick.”

 _It’s not my Leonard. It’s not him_.

“You aren’t really him,” she says aloud, her voice sure.

“Wrong again,” he says. “This is exactly who I’ve always been, who I’m supposed to be.” His lip curls up. “They said being on your damned ship turned me into a _hero_.” He says it like a curse. “That’s not me.” He levels his cold gun at her, the powerup audible. She’s had the same gun pointed at her before, but last time, she never believed for a moment that Leonard would use it.

This time, she has no reason to believe he _won’t_.

She ignores Gideon’s voice in her ear informing her that she’s showing signs of severe distress–no shit–instead focusing on spinning away from the line of fire, and just in time; the beam of cold barely misses her. She keeps twisting and manages to strike his gun, hard enough to throw him off balance, but not hard enough to break the weapon. She swings the staff back around in the other direction, trying to catch his head and disable him, but he ducks and she misses.

If they were both unarmed, she’d win this fight easily. As it is, he’s armed with his favorite weapon, and she’s too shaken to fight her best.

She can’t kill him, not even if he’s trying to kill her, and that means she’s pulling her punches, ignoring the fact that she knows the hesitation could get her killed. She rolls out of the way of another blast of his gun and stands, trying to figure out the best plan of attack before he can get off another shot.

She runs toward him, and he curses as he moves to the side rather than firing again. She manages to clip him, knocking his goggles askew, and he shoves them out of his way, revealing too-familiar eyes that make her breath catch.

He shoots again, and she doesn’t move quite fast enough; it hits her staff, and she lets go just in time, the ice coming close enough to her hand that her skin burns even beneath her gloves.

“Shit,” she mutters, backing up, trying to keep her footing on the bits of ice that now cover the pavement. She knows it doesn’t look good, but at this point, it’s probably too late to call for backup. Besides, Gideon’s already informed the team when Sara didn’t respond, she hopes.

There’s also a part of her that worries what happens if the team shows up and is less concerned with accidentally killing this man than she is, because as much as it’s not him, it still _is_ , and she knows seeing him dead will break her. She’s already lost him once.

“And Merlyn told me you were a good fighter,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

She doesn’t rise to the insult, knowing it isn’t true, and she steps to the side to dodge. Her world drops out from beneath her when her foot comes down on a particularly thick frozen patch, probably one he’d shot while she was rolling, and she falls hard, ribs landing solidly on the raised portion of ice. She allows herself a grunt; she’s winded, and she knows broken ribs when she feels them.

“They told me it was your fault I died,” Captain Cold taunts, “that you _left_ me to die.”

“It wasn’t like that!” The words rip from her throat, and she pulls herself to her knees, holding an arm to her ribs. “It wasn’t like that,” she says again. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t care,” he says calmly, raising the gun.

Sara’s on her knees, too far to reach him in time to stop him, and the cold gun is powered up and pointed straight at her. There’s nothing she can do but wait for death to come, her side aching and her eyes fixed on those of the man she knows so well and yet not at all.

She waits, but death doesn’t come. She can’t read his face well, not this version of him, doesn’t know what’s making him hesitate, what’s causing the gun to drop infinitesimally.

“Len,” she pleads, but she’s not sure what she’s pleading for: for her life, for him to be the Leonard she knows, for him to end it already if he’s going to. Whatever he hears, it’s enough that he straightens the gun again.

Sara takes a breath and closes her eyes. Seconds pass, and then–

“Blondie?”

Mick’s nearby, his voice behind her, and she opens her eyes to see Cold still watching her. His eyes flicker to where his old partner will be appearing at any moment, and he lowers the gun.

“We’ll finish this later,” he says, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him, and slips away moments before Mick arrives. Sara falls forward, wincing when her arms catch her weight and put too much stress on her ribs.

“It was him, but it wasn’t,” she tells Mick, who’s reached her.

“What?” he asks.

“Leonard,” she says. “It was him.”

Before she can say more, Ray comes running around the corner, stopping just in time to avoid slipping on the ice.

“Sara?” he says. “What happened?”

The rest of the team appears, except Rip, who stayed on the ship to monitor the situation with Gideon, and Sara forces herself to sit upright.

“It appeared to be Mr. Snart,” Gideon says, a layer of concern in her artificial voice. Sara can’t make herself watch her teammate’s various surprised reactions right now. The fact that Gideon can see him, can mention him, is just one more piece of assurance that it wasn’t the Leonard she knows, the Leonard…

But what if she’s wrong? What if that _was_ her Leonard, or her Leonard has ceased to exist?

“It wasn’t the man we traveled with,” Sara says.

“Ms. Lance seems to be correct,” Gideon confirms, and Sara breathes a sigh of relief that she immediately regrets. “This version of Mr. Snart never came aboard the Waverider. According to the little information I could gather from here, he is approximately a year younger than the version who first boarded the Waverider.”

“This has to be the temporal anomaly,” says Ray. “Right?”

“There’s more,” Sara says. “Malcolm Merlyn and Damien Darhk, they were here, too.” She drives herself to get to her feet, ignoring the hands outstretched to help her; she needs the pain so she can focus. “They’ve found some means of time travel. Darhk should be dead, too,” she adds needlessly, since the team heard that particular news at the same time as she did.

She searches for anything else she needs to tell them, anything else that she shouldn’t hold on to. The presence of a second Leonard still seems to be off limits, or Gideon would have mentioned it, and she can’t think of anything else that would change anything.

She needs to get to Leonard’s to make sure he’s still there, but she understands better than she has before exactly how much is at stake. What happens if this Leonard is the one who’s supposed to be here, rather than the one she knows? What happens if too many people see the other Leonard, and it solidifies the wrong timeline somehow?

She can’t go check on him until she knows she won’t be followed.

She nods gratefully at Amaya as the woman picks up the remnants of Sara’s staff, which appears to have shattered when it hit the ground. Sara closes her eyes, then jumps when Nate touches the arm on her good side.

“Let’s get you back to the Waverider so you can get fixed up,” he says, and she nods. As they walk, she ignores the concerned looks from most of her teammates, who she knows haven’t seen her like this before. She focuses instead on Mick, who’s frowning.

Mick worked with Leonard before he came on the Waverider, before he changed. How differently would it have happened if Mick had found him instead of Sara? It’s not until they get to the ship that she realizes only Nate, Amaya, and Mick have come with her, the rest staying behind to see what they can find.

“Be careful,” she says over the comms. “If you find them, don’t engage. Merlyn can be dangerous on his own, and we need to find out what sort of powers Darhk’s got before we take him on.”

Rip confirms her advice, then meets them in the medbay. With some help from Nate, Sara sinks gratefully into the chair, which immediately lights up as Gideon takes over.

“The fractures are multiple, but relatively minor,” the ship informs them, “and should only take a little while for me to heal.”

“Thanks, Gideon,” she groans, turning to Rip as he approaches her.

“Gideon activated your microphone when we realized what was happening,” he says softly. Sara watches Nate and Amaya leave the room before turning back to the captain. “We didn’t hear all of it, but…” Rip hesitates. Mick collapsing loudly into a chair on the other side of her seems to be the cue he needs to continue. “It really wasn’t your fault, you know that, right? That Mr. Snart died?”

Sara nods. She _does_ know, but that doesn’t mean she never feels guilt, that she doesn’t feel regret about kissing him and leaving him behind.

“Good,” Rip says, opening his mouth like he wants to say something else. “Good,” he repeats instead, then pats her arm awkwardly before leaving her and Mick alone.

“Gideon,” Sara says as soon as Rip’s footsteps fade, “engage privacy mode for fifteen minutes.”

“Privacy mode engaged,” Gideon chirps, and the room falls silent.

“I’m going to check on him as soon as it’s safe,” she says after a minute. “Because that wasn’t our Leonard.”

“Man I used to know was dangerous,” Mick says. “He’s got a code, but he’s willing to kill if that’s what he has to do, and he won’t regret it after. If that’s who we’re dealing with, then you need to be careful.”

“He didn’t kill me when he had the chance, though,” Sara tells him, “and I don’t know why.”

Mick shakes his head. “Couldn’t tell ya. But what I’m tryin’ to say is, he’s not the man you know. Can’t get yourself killed if you see him again just ‘cause he looks like our Snart.”

“I know,” Sara whispers. She watches Mick leave, knowing he only meant to help, but her need to see Leonard, the Leonard she knows, has only grown stronger after the brief conversation. She’s grateful, at least, that Mick seems willing to let her check to make sure Len is okay; she knows he has at least as much right to that as she does. She makes a mental note to text him once she’s talked to Leonard, and she settles in as best she can for Gideon to finish healing her.

Then, she just has to make it until everyone’s asleep to go be with Leonard.

***

Leonard’s asleep when he hears Sara come in. Some nights, he gets up when he hears her, and others, he stays put, waiting for her to join him.

Tonight’s one of the nights he doesn’t move. He listens to her soft footsteps as she walks through the house, pausing briefly at the door, and he doesn’t try to push away the feeling of relief that she’s there. She comes every night, despite the fact that he continues to tell her not to, and her presence never fails to make things better somehow.

He shifts as she gets into bed, making sure there’s enough room for her, and as soon as he wraps his arm around her–automatically, but never absently–his relief vanishes abruptly.

She’s fully dressed in her White Canary outfit, and she’s shaking.

“Sara? What’s wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update on Monday! The chapter’s already written :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of new info in this chapter, but it's another intense one.

Sara holds it together okay through the healing, through the waiting, through the trek to Leonard’s place. It’s while picking the lock that she starts shaking; she’s been pushing off seeing him, along with her worry for him, for hours, and the time it’s taking to open the door is too long.

If there were any night she needed him to open the door to berate her before letting her in, it was tonight.

She takes a breath and steadies her hands well enough to finish the job, closing the door quietly behind her once she’s inside. She knows she should be more cautious, but she can’t handle the possibility that Leonard won’t be here, that he won’t be himself.

He has to be.

She pauses in his bedroom doorway, listening to his even breaths, shallow enough that she knows he’s awake. She makes her way to the bed, and he moves as she gets in, making room for her and wrapping an arm around her like it’s where it belongs.

It’s too much. It’s him, and the other wasn’t, and she feels like she’s just come home to find her house has moved without her. She isn’t crying, not quite, but she’s shaking uncontrollably. She’s aware of Leonard asking her something, pulling her closer when she can’t respond, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her half on top of him. She turns into his embrace, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

They stay like that until she can breathe again.

Slowly, she becomes aware of how they’ve ended up. Her body’s half on top of his, her leg draped over him. One of her hands is tucked under her chin, and the other wraps around the side of his neck, like she’s trying to pull him even closer to her. His face is angled so his cheek rests against her head, which can’t be comfortable, but he’s not pulling away.

As he feels her calm down, his grip relaxes, and he starts running a hand up and down her back. He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute, Sara considers just pretending the day never happened, just staying like this until they both fall asleep.

But she knows that isn’t fair to Leonard, who has to be concerned by her actions.

Besides, it all has a lot to do with him.

She lets herself take comfort in the embrace while deciding whether she’d rather the light off or on; it’d be nice to see his reactions, to see _him_ , but the other man looked the same. He didn’t though, not really, not when she really looked, so after a minute, she asks, “Mind if we turn on the light?”

He stills before releasing her, and she pulls away before she can change her mind, reaching for the light switch and blinking while her eyes adjust...

...and he’s there, in the bed they share, looking half asleep and more than a little concerned, watching her, waiting for her to speak, to say something, _anything_ , but her mind keeps playing images back and forth: his face as it is now, and the face she saw earlier today, the man who–

Her thoughts stutter to a halt as Leonard takes her hand in his, holding it so tightly it almost hurts, grounding her and letting her mind stop spinning.

“There’s another version of you in Central City.”

***

His initial response is disbelief, but he turns the information over in his mind before he speaks, ignoring the fact that his hand is going numb in Sara’s grip, that her skin is still cooler than it should be.

It explains some things. If there’s another version of him, he’d have to avoid coming in contact with himself, he suspects. He’d also need to be more cautious about who sees them, with the potential to cause conflict with the other Leonard.

But Sara’s reaction doesn’t fit for someone who merely encountered another Leonard. She’s sitting mostly upright, but she’s still curled in on herself, her free hand wrapped around her middle. Her breathing still isn’t quite right, either, and she’s staring at him like he’s her lifeline.

Leonard sits up without letting go of her hand, and she watches him, dropping her eyes from his face down to his torso, almost as if she’s checking to make sure it’s really him and he’s really okay.

“Tell me,” he says as gently as he can when her eyes return to his.

Sara nods, but it takes her a few tries before she can speak.

“There were… Nate’s calling them the Legion of Doom. There was something wrong, some sort of temporal disturbance across town. We went and checked it out. We split up, and I…” She grips his hand even tighter, and Leonard suppresses a wince. “First it was Damien Darhk and Malcolm Merlyn.”

Leonard knows those names, knows exactly who they are to her. Her reactions are immediately clearer, and his heart sinks as he makes the connections in his mind. It was them first, and then…

“You joined them.” Sara looks down at the mattress after she speaks, but she seems unable to look away from him for long, her eyes drawn back to his face before she continues.

“How?” he asks. It’s easier than asking what happened next; he suspects he won’t like it.

“Darhk said they’ve got time travel. I don’t know why they used it to come _here_ , but that’s how he’s still alive.” She swallows. “Probably how you are, too. That version of you.”

“There’s probably at least one more of them,” Leonard says. “Based on what you’ve told me about Merlyn, he’s unlikely to have started the time travel thing on his own. Darhk couldn’t have if he was dead. And without changes to my timeline, we already know I don’t get access to time travel until the Waverider.”

“So there’s a fourth who brought time travel to the mix. Great.” Despite her complaint, she sounds a little more like herself. He doesn’t quite relax, but he breathes a bit easier.

“What happened?” he makes himself ask.

Sara looks down and back again. “Darhk and Merlyn left. You– Cold tried to kill me.”

Leonard struggles to keep himself calm. He suspected this might be what happened, but it’s still hard to hear. Yet, it can’t be harder than it was for Sara to live it. It tells him something, though.

There’s no way the other version of him comes from a time when he knew Sara, because killing her became an impossibility almost from the moment they met.

“He didn’t…” Sara starts, seeming to struggle with her words. “He really was trying to kill me at first, but then he had a chance… I was down. I’d broken three of my ribs on ice.”

Leonard’s vision clouds over at that. To picture Sara, injured and at the mercy of somebody trying to kill her is bad enough. For the assailant to have his face…

“He didn’t do it,” she says, and he forces himself to focus back on her. “I don’t know why. I’d given up,” she admits. “I was watching him, and…” She shakes her head without breaking eye contact.

If she was looking at that Leonard anything like the way she’s looking at him now, he understands why the man couldn’t pull the trigger. There’s so much emotion there, things he’s seen since shortly after she came back into his life, things he’s refused to acknowledge.

There’s love, so intense his breath catches. There’s need, and there’s want, and there’s hope.

And he feels it for her, too. All of it.

But there’s also fear at the moment, and it helps him keep track of the conversation.

“Mick showed up, and he left,” Sara finishes.

Leonard nods, trying to marshal his thoughts. “So four to take down. What do we know for strengths and weaknesses?”

“Gideon was able to scan for Darhk’s totem, but it isn’t here, so we’re basically just looking at League training out of him and Merlyn.” Leonard knows that’s nothing to scoff at even on its own. “Darhk’s still more of a threat because he’s had so long to practice and hone his techniques.” The strategy help is working, and more of the fear and panic leaves her expression, and her grip loosens, though she doesn’t let go. “Gideon said Cold is from about a year before you got on the Waverider.”

Probably shortly after he got the cold gun and met the Flash.

It’s a lot, all of it, and with Sara beside him, looking at him like she is, he can’t fully process everything it means in relation to himself.

“I think,” Sara says, almost as if she hears his thoughts, “that the time changes… I think there’s the timeline you came from, and there’s the timeline where you went with the Legion. And time hasn’t decided yet which one really happened.”

It’s as good a theory as any, and where his thoughts lead him, too.

“Shit,” Sara says, letting go of his hand and producing a cell phone from one of her utility pockets. “I was supposed to text Mick.” She holds the phone so he can see as she taps out a brief message: _He’s okay._

Sara puts the phone away, and it draws both of their attentions to what she’s wearing.

“I was still wearing this when Gideon healed my ribs,” she says, almost self-consciously. “I didn’t even think about changing after.”

“You’re staying here tonight?” It’s not quite a question, and he doesn’t consider asking her to leave for even a moment. He continues without waiting for a response. “Maybe I have something a little more comfortable for you to sleep in.”

He gets up, crossing the room to his tiny closet, and takes stock of what he can offer her, but much of it would be almost as uncomfortable as her Canary suit. He selects his longest t-shirt and goes back to the bed.

“I don’t wear shorts,” he says, handing her the shirt, “but I have some clean boxers, if–”

“This is fine,” she says. She holds the garment on her lap, looking down at it uncertainly. “I don’t know anything else. It feels like so much happened today, but we don’t really know that much more, not for sure.”

“It makes a difference,” he says, realizing how true it is as he says it. “Having at least an idea of why it’s so important for me not to interact with the present is more than I’ve had since I got here.”

Sara looks up at him, just studying him for several quiet seconds. “I’m gonna go change,” she says quietly. He nods, getting back in bed while she’s gone, and spends the time waiting in trying to tame his spiraling thoughts.

Thoughts that come to a complete and inappropriately timed halt when she reappears in his doorway in nothing but his shirt.

***

Sara fiddles with the hem of his shirt as she watches Leonard’s eyes trail over her body. They’re heated when they return to hers, but his body language still reflects his typical restraint, and she knows he won’t push the situation, even if part of her wants him to.

But their only kiss was already tainted with goodbyes and regrets, and if they try taking that step again, she doesn’t want regret to have any part of it.

And it would, tonight. She’s calmer now, after talking, after the extended contact–she flexes her hand absently, registering the fact that it’s a little sore–but she’s still not herself. He can’t be, either, not after learning there’s another _him_ out there, a version of him who never became a hero.

She pads over to the bed and climbs in. Despite her determination not to change their relationship tonight, she can’t bring herself to turn away from him, to roll over like she normally does. He turns on his side to face her, and they stay like that for a long minute, just watching, just inches apart.

The fact that Leonard hasn’t reached out to her tells her exactly how much trouble he’s having with restraint. The fact that he would have already been touching her otherwise just drives home once more how much they’ve changed, how much they’ve both let their guards down.

She swallows, making a choice to break the moment and turn off the light. She still doesn’t roll away, though. Instead, she gently pushes him onto his back. She pulls his arm around her shoulders and pillows her head on his chest, letting her hand rest there, too. His other arm comes up, lingering momentarily on her ribs–the ones that had been broken hours before–before sliding down to her waist.

She isn’t sure at first whether she’ll be able to sleep, not with the day she had, not with what lies ahead for both of them, but Leonard’s touch, his scent, his heart beating steadily under her ear, all make her feel more secure than she thought possible.

As she slips into sleep, she imagines she feels his lips against her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter crosses over into Flash. If you watch Flash, you know the number of timelines it has just for 2016. Mix in the time changes in LoT, both canonically and in my story, and, well, I’m going with what works best for the story. It’s roughly November, so they’ve got H.R. with them, and it’s before Invasion! I don’t buy that Barry wouldn’t have managed to check in on Snart after The New Rogues, and some things will have changed because of Legion!Len, so... Bear with me :) If anything’s confusing, yell.
> 
> Thanks, Tavyn, for making sure my technobabble made sense so that you all get answers instead of more questions :)

The next morning, Leonard wakes to Sara carefully pulling herself out of his embrace. She sees his eyes open when she stands, and she gives him a little smile. She doesn’t say anything, but what is there to say that they haven’t already?

He sits up as something occurs to him, and his eyes narrow. “You’re going after them again today, aren’t you?”

Sara hesitates, then visibly tenses. “If we can find them.”

“Sara…”

“What?” she snaps. “Are you going to tell me I can’t? That it isn’t safe? That I could get killed? Well, been there, done that already. It’s what we _do_ , and you know it just as well as I do.”

Leonard shakes his head. “I was going to tell you to be careful.”

“Oh.” The fight drains out of her, and she pulls at the hem of the shirt she’s wearing–his shirt–which drags his attention momentarily to her bare legs. His eyes snap back to hers, and she’s clearly tracked the motion, and it’s like emotional whiplash to see her eyes have darkened and she’s biting her lip.

It’s like the night before, each of them watching, wanting, both knowing that neither of them is going to make a move. Leonard breaks the tension this time, gesturing regretfully at the light filtering in at the edges of the windows.

“You should probably get back,” he says. More than ever, he itches to go with her, but more than ever, he knows he can’t.

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly. “I’ll just…” She tugs down on the shirt again and leaves the room, and he hears the bathroom door shut.

Normally, Leonard would go back to sleep, but he knows that’s not happening today. After several seconds, he stands, quickly finding some dark jeans and a long sleeved shirt and pulling them on. He’s only just finished when Sara reappears at his door, clutching the shirt she slept in.

“I’m gonna go,” she says quietly, loosening her grip and holding the shirt out toward him. He crosses the room and takes the shirt, only dimly noting that it’s still warm.

“Alright,” he says, matching her tone. They’re so close, and as irrational and unexpected as it is, there’s a part of him that wants to wrap her up in his arms and protect her like he did last night.

It wouldn’t change anything, though, wouldn’t do anything to stabilize the timeline or protect the rest of the team, and he knows neither of them can truly ignore what’s going on outside this shitty little house.

She exhales and turns to leave.

“Wait,” Leonard says before he’s decided to speak. She turns back. “Don’t count on him pulling his punches again.” He doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about. “I don’t know what he knows about you, but I doubt you fit neatly into whatever category he’s assigned. That makes you a threat, and he knows better than to let a threat wander his city.”

Sara nods. “I’ll be careful as I feel like I can.” She turns away once more, and this time he doesn’t stop her. He hears the front door open and close; he’s alone again.

He’s alone, and endless hours stretch ahead of him, during which he can only wonder what’s happening, whether the people he cares for are safe from the man he used to be.

It drives home how much he’s changed, when he stops to think about how the other Leonard might behave. He was ready for a change when Rip showed up, but this was before then. He was willing to change in ways necessary for survival–he had to be, with that sort of life–but beyond that?

That Leonard never would have sacrificed himself for his team. He had no reason to believe he could be anything more than a thief, little reason to believe his life was in any way lacking. He had power, as much as he could with Barry around. He had safe places around the city. He had a partner he trusted not to double-cross him, to follow his lead.

The Legion of Doom has to have offered him more of the same to get him to go with them, not a change, but an amplification of the status quo, the same reasoning Leonard had used to get Mick to board the Waverider with him.

That makes him more unpredictable, if he’s expecting easy riches, easier thwarting of the “good” guys. Being confronted by the group of misfits who travel on the Waverider is going to make him angrier than usual. If he can get ahold of any intel at all, he’ll be laying a trap for them, planning to get them out of his way. They aren’t like Barry, whom he grudgingly admires despite the fact he wishes the speedster would take up residence far away; they’re unknowns, people who put him on edge and expect him to be _more_.

He’ll have to get rid of them.

And that means Leonard can’t just stay here. He knows the areas he’d be most likely to set a trap, and he can check them out, make sure Sara, Mick, and the others aren’t walking into an ambush. He snags a hoodie and sets out before he can talk himself out of it, before it’s too late.

He’s cautious as he moves through the neighborhood, as always. He makes it out onto a main street, being sure to avoid the cameras, keeping his hood up. His heart stops when he hears a familiar whoosh.

“Not now, Barry,” he mutters, clenching his jaw and continuing on his path. Leonard tries to figure out how the speedster found him. Had he missed a camera? Had someone seen him?

“I didn’t believe Caitlin when she said she saw you,” says the familiar voice, the one that never entirely loses the optimism no matter how many times life tries to get him to give up. “Professor Stein seemed pretty sure you’d died.”

Leonard ducks into an alley, not wanting to draw attention, before he finally stops and looks at Barry. He’s not wearing his Flash suit, at least, so they weren’t as conspicuous as he feared. “What do you want?” he asks. It’s really not the time.

“Come back to the lab with me,” Barry says, wearing that damnably sincere look as always.

“No.”

“Look, you know you shouldn’t be out here, or else we would’ve figured out you were here a long time ago.” Barry shifts his weight. “But you’re risking it anyway, and my guess is it has something to do with the readings we’re picking up of the Waverider crew coming into contact with a temporal anomaly.”

“What do you know about it?” Leonard snarls.

“Just… come with me, okay? We can explain better there.”

***

For the sake of time, Leonard lets Barry take him to S.T.A.R. Labs. It’s not an experience he really wants to repeat any time soon. In the lab, he sees Cisco and–

“H.R.,” the man introduces himself, “in case you met one of my predecessors.” There’s something about the man that reminds him of Raymond, something in how he would look entirely normal if he didn’t radiate _odd_.

“Don’t care,” Leonard says. “Barry, you promised answers. I need to get out of here.”

“Cisco can help you check on your team,” Barry says, nodding toward the computers, and Leonard walks over to the younger man, who seems less angry with him than he probably should be.

“I can’t always check on them or anything,” Cisco explains, “but when the Waverider’s here, it’s like the two Gideons let us sync up.” Another Gideon? Cisco gestures to the newest set of data on the screens, what looks like heart rates and other vitals, each with a neat label for who they belong to. “Never actually _had_ to do it before, but it comes in handy, huh?” He’s quiet for a moment while Leonard studies the monitors. “See? They’re all okay. Can we talk about you, now?”

Everyone looks okay. The graphics provide handy indicators for what’s normal and what isn’t, and while some of his prior teammates are on the high end of normal, Leonard doesn’t see anything alarming. He nods, turning toward the others in the room and crossing his arms.

“So,” Barry starts, “without going into too much detail, we’ve got some experience with time changes, alternate timelines and all that. After Caitlin saw you, we started investigating, and we found out that two timelines are competing for dominance.”

Leonard isn’t sure whether to address the fact that Caitlin saw him when he really thought he’d gotten away or Barry’s word choice. He settles on another line of questioning entirely.

“How can you tell there are multiple timelines?” He’s pretty sure he can see the changes because he isn’t supposed to be here, but he doesn’t know how they can, whether to trust the rest of their information if he can’t trust that claim.

“Let me explain that one,” the goofy looking man says theatrically. “We think between Francisco here’s powers and Barry’s, Team Flash is exposed to enough temporal distortion that we’re mildly immune.”

“Mildly,” Cisco repeats, looking blandly at H.R. “What he means is, we might not notice all the changes, but we saw enough that we were able to investigate.” He minimizes the vitals on one monitor, pulling up other displays instead. “With some creative vibing”–Leonard isn’t even going to ask–“we were able to put together this model.”

Leonard sees two lines, coming closer and closer together until they intersect and merge into one.

Barry takes over explaining. “We can’t figure out exactly how you got here, but one of the timelines is tied directly to you. If you weren’t here, time would’ve cemented by now, but you’re slowing things down. And even though we can’t trace all the changes to the other Snart, the other timeline has latched onto him, maybe just as a matter of balance.”

They already know about the other version of him.

“Every model we’ve run,” says H.R., seeming too excited, “shows that the two timelines–meaning, basically, the two versions of you, Leonard– _will_ eventually meet and merge.”

“But,” Cisco cuts in, “if the two timelines merge too soon…” More tapping on the keyboard, and first the lines shift so that the wrong line continues past the merge, and then the lines come to a point before stopping abruptly.

“And what’s that translate to, exactly?” Leonard says.

“If you come in contact with the other version of you before it’s time,” Barry says, looking ridiculously sympathetic, “either he’ll be the one to come out of it, not you, and we’ve seen enough of what that’ll mean that we’d rather avoid it…”

“Or,” finishes Cisco, “you both sort of… vanish. I haven’t been able to vibe anything after that outcome.”

“You’re saying that if neither of us comes out of this, time might stop?” Leonard asks, frowning at the resulting nods. “And that things are bad if he does instead of me.” More nodding. “Good thing there’s no pressure, then.” He runs things over in his mind. “What happens if we never meet? What if I stay out of sight indefinitely?”

Cisco shakes his head. “It doesn’t happen. You’ll always meet up with him eventually, and then–” He gestures again to the aborted timeline.

“So I have to meet him at the right time. At least tell me you know when that is.”

“It’s in three days,” H.R. says, happy to supply an answer.

“And what do I have to do?” Leonard asks. “Do I need to kill him?”

“We don’t actually know, exactly,” Cisco says. “We don’t think so. It looks like the timelines are vibrating at frequencies that should cancel each other out. Basically, when you come in contact, the one that’s strongest will win. The history that matches the winner’s will be the one that solidifies.”

Leonard is quiet for a minute, making sure he’s following everything, and his eyes are pulled back to the team’s vitals. He definitely can’t go help them, not for three days.

At least he has an end date to his time in hiding.

Suddenly the lab is too clean, the men’s expressions too understanding. He doesn’t care if he died a hero; he doesn’t like it when they look at him like one.

“Can I go home now?” he asks. Cisco and H.R. look at Barry, who nods.

“I’ll take you. It’s safer.” Leonard frowns before moving over to the speedster.

“One more thing,” Barry says quietly. “Just because you meet up with him at the right time doesn’t always mean you come out on top.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later chapter contains brief, Teen-rated interactions; read with caution if at work.

The rest of the day passes more quickly than Leonard expects; the information from Barry and his crew occupies his mind fairly effectively.

On the one hand, it’s actually rather simple. He’s only got to deal with this waiting for a few more days. He doesn’t need to fight against himself, which is probably a good thing since he’s out of practice and doesn’t have his gun. He just needs to get closer to his other self, and he knows when he needs to do it.

He just isn’t sure how to tip the odds in his favor when the weapon is the strength of his temporal vibration.

It’s easier when he thinks of him and his opposing self as separate timelines. What’s stronger for a timeline? Assuming stability isn’t a factor, since he can’t do anything about that, two things come to mind: the people and emotions in it. A timeline doesn’t want anything on its own, but the people in it certainly can.

If he’s being optimistic—and he has to be, or else he knows he’ll run, and to hell with the consequences—he has to believe the universe itself is on his side. His presence is what’s slowing the other timeline. He’s never gotten an answer for _why_ he’s here, but it makes sense now, in its way; he was tied into all of time when he died, and time needed him here to keep from breaking.

By the time Sara shows up, he’s come to terms with it, as best as he can. He figures the best chance he’s got is to enjoy these next few days, potentially his last, to cling to this timeline as well as he’s able.

He hasn’t figured out whether to actually tell Sara. He can’t see any good coming out of it; as little as he can do, she can do even less, and she can’t be distracted if she encounters the other Leonard again.

And he can tell by her expression that she already has, the way she checks him over again, making sure he’s okay, when to the best of her knowledge, he’s been here, safe, all day.

He opens the door wide and jerks his head toward the bedroom.

They’re quiet until they’re both seated against his headboard. Neither of them gets under the covers, knowing they need to talk more than they need to sleep. Leonard sees Sara’s hand twitch like she wants to reach for him, but she’s otherwise still. Their bodies are inches apart, their feet nearly touching. Sara’s wearing her leggings-and-t-shirt combo, and he’s in shirt and boxers, and it would take seconds to get past all the crap and strip each other bare.

Instead, he waits for her to speak, the air growing more charged as each moment passes.

“We ran into them again today,” Sara says finally, and Leonard turns to meet her eyes, which are already focused on him. “The team went after Merlyn and Darhk, and I ended up alone with… with Cold.”

While she doesn’t exactly sound relaxed or happy, she’s not as upset as she was the night before.

“What happened?” he prompts.

“We _talked_.” She wrinkles her nose, like she can’t believe it any more than he can. “In a lot of ways, he’s still you. I mean, obviously, since he actually is. But he’s so different that it’s impossible to forget that he’s not _my_ —" Sara stops short, but he knows how the sentence was going to end.

And he is, he knows, hers, in so many ways.

"He wasn't your version of me," he says quietly, and he hears her breath hitch as she searches his eyes.

"Yeah." Neither of them breathes until she looks away. “He’s had… I know your time since you got on the Waverider hasn’t been easy or anything, but he’s had it so much worse, and he seems lost and angry.”

Leonard’s very familiar with those emotions.

Sara continues. “He wanted to know what you were like, and how you were with the team. When I mentioned Lisa…” Sara looks up at him, and her eyes are damp, and Leonard shakes his head almost involuntarily.

“ _No_ ,” he says, and she reaches over, taking the hand in his lap and clutching it tightly.

“He left with the Legion right before your dad used her as leverage. When he couldn’t find you—him—he just…”

He makes an effort to relax his grip on Sara’s hand, which has to have hurt, but she’s made no attempt to pull away or shown any signs of discomfort.

“The first thing he did when he found out was go kill Lewis, so that much is the same, at least, but even that was worse. It wasn’t a clean kill.”

It wouldn’t have been, either, not if Lewis had murdered Lisa.

He has to erase the other timeline. That one absolutely cannot be the one that becomes permanent. It’s not just his life that depends on his being the winner in whatever showdown lies ahead. It’s Lisa’s. It’s the safety of his team, of _Sara_ , because he knows they aren’t going to let the other version of him just continue with the mayhem, as understandable as that Leonard’s hate might be.

Potentially, the whole world is on Leonard’s shoulders again, only this time, he has to survive. There’s not another option.

He can’t dwell on the possibility of losing. There’s too much at stake, too much to lose whether the world ends or just continues without him.

Sara squeezes his hand, drawing his attention back to her. She’s watching him with far too much sympathy, but there’s also more, that _more_ that’s always there lately. He can’t ignore it, doesn’t want to. Leonard can’t find the words to tell her he feels the same, to tell her she’s his anchor and the only reason he hasn’t lost his mind. He’s not sure he could force the words out, even if he knew what he needed to say, with his emotions so tangled right now.

He can’t tell her, but maybe he can show her. And it won’t be a goodbye this time; he refuses to let it be. It’s not about the fact that their time might be up in three days or the consequences if he fails.

It’s about him and her, and the fact that any future he might have needs to have both of them in it. It’s about how they make each other better, and this can only add to it, not detract from it. It’s about want and need and hope, and that in reaction to whatever’s on his face, her sympathy has faded to be replaced with desire.

He relaxes his hand and shifts it, and her fingers lace with his immediately, her grip strong and unhesitating. He sits straighter, his back off the headboard so he can twist to face her better, and she does the same.

“Should we…” Sara’s voice is almost a whisper. “We can wait, if now isn’t…”

Leonard shakes his head and reaches out a careful hand. She presses into his touch as he slides his fingers across her cheek, until his hands are in her hair, her face resting in his palm. Her mouth opens ever-so-slightly as he leans forward and captures her lips with his.

Technically, it’s their second kiss, and in some ways, this is familiar: her lips are as soft as he remembers, and they fit against his as perfectly as they did the last time. However, last time, it was so clearly a goodbye, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t really respond, couldn’t spend the eternity he wanted.

He makes up for it this time. He tastes, he touches, he lingers. His free hand finds its way just under her shirt, and she clutches his shirt as she pulls him closer to her, and when she finally pulls back, panting, she’s blinking up at him and looking just as stunned as he feels.

“Are we…” she starts, eyes running over him before locking back on to his.

“If you want,” he answers.

He holds his breath when she lets go of him, but he finds it again when she moves her hands to the bottom of his shirt before pulling it off him, with his help. She studies him, with her touch as much as her eyes, running her hands over skin and scars like she’s trying to memorize him. After a few minutes, her shirt joins his on the floor, and he does the same, mapping her torso while her tiny inhalations are seared into his mind.

They kiss again, skin against skin, and any half-formed desire to take it slow dissipates along with the intoxicating friction between them. Before he knows it, she’s calling his name as his world explodes and reforms, and as she collapses against him, all he can think is that this is how they were always supposed to be.

***

Leonard doesn’t actually mean to fall asleep. He wakes, sometime in the early morning hours, before the sun has considered rising; it’s dark, and Sara must have turned off the light. She’s curled into his side, and there’s nothing between them. He presses a kiss to her forehead because he can, and she stirs.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine.” She reaches out and traces the lines of his face before moving so that she can kiss him. It’s soft and lingering, and so is what follows, almost a reverent worship of one another in the dark.

***

Sara can’t quite fall back to sleep after their second time, so she studies Leonard instead.

Today had been hard, less for herself and more for what Captain Cold’s revelations meant for Leonard. Cold had threatened her only half-heartedly this time, but seeing his anger and hatred when he talked about what happened with Lisa had been rough.

Telling Leonard was nearly impossible, but she knew he had to know. He’ll do anything for his sister, always has, and she needs him to survive this. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen, how the two timelines can possibly resolve right, but she knows that if either she or her Leonard have anything to do with it, it'll all work out.

She didn’t think tonight was going to be the right time for everything they did after the talking stopped, but when it came to it, she wanted him, needed him, even, and she doesn’t regret it in the slightest.

After a few minutes, his eyes open, just a crack.

“You’re staring,” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

“Do you mind?” she asks, and his lips pull up into a little smile.

“Not particularly.” He yawns and rolls to face her. “Something on your mind?”

“You,” she answers honestly. “Us.” He nods and lets the silence rest between them until she continues. “I’m glad we did this.”

“So am I.” He slides his hand along her arm before lacing his fingers with hers.

“I know things might get messy,” she says, “with everything else that’s going on, and it’s good to have a part of all this that’s ours, you know?” He nods again. “Plus, now I really can tell the team I’m getting laid when I stay out all night.”

Leonard smirks before leaning forward to kiss her. The kiss is probably too short, but it suits their sleepy movements.

“Just don’t let Mick hear you,” he says, “or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sara huffs. “Good call.” They continue watching each other, and some of the ease fades as her mind forces the real world back in. “I need you to be okay,” she tells him.

He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he gets it, knows he feels the same. He tugs on her hand, and she rolls so that her back is against his front. He wraps an arm around her, and she feels any remaining tension leave her.

It doesn’t matter that their world could fall apart any day now.

Being here, with him, their guards down enough to be like this, is more than she ever thought she’d get. It’s everything, and while it doesn’t make everything perfect, she knows nothing could make her forget how she feels in this moment.

She feels loved.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting tonight because there's a chance I'll be able to sleep in tomorrow, but I know I won't do it if I still need to post the chapter.

When Sara gets back to the Waverider the next day—well, later that morning—her lips are still tingling from the kiss Leonard gave her before she left.

She goes straight to the kitchen—galley, whatever—to make herself breakfast, stopping short when she sees Mick and Amaya already eating. Amaya smiles at her in understanding, and Mick watches Sara intently, nodding after a moment.

The professor comes in then, looking around distractedly before blinking at Sara.

“Ah, Sara. And how is your paramour who keeps you out all night?”

“He’s good,” she answers, glancing at Mick to make sure he gets the message. When the room falls silent again for a hair too long, Sara feels a stab of guilt, and she continues. “Sorry I’m out every night, but I usually wait until everyone’s asleep, anyways.”

“Nobody blames you for taking comfort where you can, Sara,” Amaya says, and the professor nods.

“Quite right. Especially after, ah...”

“After the boss tried to kill you,” Mick finishes. He stands abruptly, tossing the rest of his food and leaving the room.

Martin looks down into his mug, then nods politely at both women before leaving. Food forgotten, Sara sighs and slumps down on the stool next to Amaya, crossing her arms on the counter and hiding her face.

“Nobody who knew Leonard is handling it well,” the other woman says softly. “Nate and I are better off. We aren’t fighting someone we know as a friend.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Sara says.

“Stop taking him on yourself,” Amaya says, firmly, if not unkindly, and Sara lifts her head to look at her. “We need you in order to defeat the others, Merlyn and Darhk. We’ll continue losing against them if we don’t have your help.” She hesitates. “Besides, I don’t think you can defeat Leonard, because of what he means to you. And you shouldn’t have to try.”

Sara ends up spending most of her day with the team. Everyone’s on edge as they search for some sign of the Legion, and a cloud of impending doom envelops the entire crew. Despite wanting to be with the team, she finds herself increasingly unable to avoid counting the hours until she can return to Leonard’s side.

It’s better with him. Not just the sex, which is certainly a favored form of stress relief, but everything about him helps her relax. She’s able to focus on the present instead of trying to imagine every possible outcome of her next encounter with the Legion. She’s able to breathe, despite the fact that she’s maybe more aware of him than she’s ever been of anyone in her life, which should be anything but relaxing.

_He wasn’t your version of me_ , Leonard said, and…

He is hers, and she is his, as much as two people can belong to each other, and it’s ridiculous given the situation, the timing, the fact that this whole thing could come crashing to an end at any moment.

But it’s also _right_. It’s one of the only things that makes sense to her right now, and so she clings to the coming night while she gets through the day.

When she goes to leave just before eleven pm, Mick is already waiting by the door. He doesn’t say anything, just nods for her to go ahead, and he follows quietly behind.

***

There are two days left. Two days, and he can’t risk leaving, just has to wait.

He passes the time reading, then cleaning. He turns on the television, only to immediately turn it off again when the noise is too much.

He finds some paper, and he writes letters to Sara, to Mick, to Lisa, letters he hopes they’ll never read, letters that will probably cease to exist if they’re actually needed. It’s a pointless exercise, but at least it’s something he can do, something he can plan.

There’s a knock at his door when he expects Sara, and something in him immediately relaxes, even guessing the knock means more company than just her.

“Sara. Mick.” He greets his guests calmly before opening the door wide enough for them to enter. Mick comes in first, and Sara brushes Leonard’s arms with her fingers as she enters.

Mick hasn’t really been coming since Leonard tried to scare him off, but his old friend sits in the single chair as if he owns it, turning on the television as soon as he’s comfortable. Leonard can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips. He looks away from his partner and sees Sara smiling up at him, and he tries to tame his expression.

He’s pretty sure he fails spectacularly.

“He needed to see you,” Sara says quietly. “I couldn’t say no, even if part of me wanted to.” She gives him a pointed stare that lets him know exactly which part of her she’s referring to.

Leonard smirks, pushing down the answering coil of heat, and nods toward the living room. “Shall we?”

Leonard sprawls out on the floor next to the chair, expecting Sara to do the same on the other side like last time the trio watched television together, but instead, after just a moment’s hesitation, she sits between his legs and leans back against his chest.

He’s still, probably for too long, but after a minute, he breathes. His habitual armor isn’t needed here.

He doesn’t _want_ it here.

He adjusts his weight so he leans against the chair and one arm, and he wraps his other arm around her waist. Her contented sigh draws Mick’s attention, but the man just grunts and goes back to watching whatever sitcom is on.

When the episode is over, Mick turns off the TV.

“Sara told you there’s two of you?” Mick says, more statement than question.

“She did,” Leonard answers.

“Got any plans on how to deal with that?”

Leonard pulls his arm more tightly around Sara, and she covers it with her hand.

“I’ve got an idea,” Leonard answers finally, “but I think it’s best if I sit on it until the time is right.”

Sara tilts her head to look up at him, and Leonard thinks he’s making the right call in not telling her everything. It’s enough that she now knows he has a plan. If he finds a way she can help, sure, he’ll tell her in a second. Until then…

“Trust me,” he says quietly, speaking to them both despite the way his eyes are fixed on Sara.

They talk a little longer, about the team, about past jobs, until Mick gets up to leave.

“I’m guessin’ you’re staying, Blondie?” At her nod, he continues. “Might wanna get back early tomorrow. Team’s not sleepin’ in so well lately.”

“I’ll be there,” Sara answers.

Mick meets Leonard’s eyes, and he knows Mick well enough to read the caution and acceptance before he turns and leaves.

“Bed time?” Sara asks, and Leonard sits forward so he can wrap both arms around her, closing his eyes in the process.

“Not just yet.”

***

Once back on the Waverider, Sara finds herself facing another day like the one before, a day that stretches out, tension foiling any attempts to relax before nightfall.

Today does, at least, have something that sets it apart: they receive a message from S.T.A.R. Labs.

“Hey guys,” Barry Allen says cautiously on the message Rip plays for them. “Just wanted to let you know that uh, we can handle the speedster. You’ll have to handle the others, though.”

“Their fourth must be a speedster,” Sara murmurs, and she sees nods of agreement.

“Oh, and tell your Leonard that projections still look the same.”

Sara tenses as the recording ends, and she sees Mick do the same.

“What’s he mean?” Ray asks, looking baffled. Sara feels Amaya’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t let herself look.

“The fluctuations in the timeline must be altering their memories,” Professor Stein proposes. “They must not remember what happened to the man who traveled with us.” Sara relaxes as the team seems to accept the explanation.

For some reason, the team doesn’t jump to the conclusion that their Leonard has been hiding out in Central City for months, unbeknownst to everyone except her and Mick. Go figure.

They continue discussing strategy, Sara sharing everything she can about the League’s fighting methods, the team carefully skirting around the subject of what to do with Captain Cold, despite knowing he’s not going to go down without a fight.

When they leave the bridge, Sara can still feel Amaya watching her, but the other woman says nothing.

***

It’s his last day. Tomorrow, he’ll have to confront himself. Tomorrow, his world could end, or everybody’s could. Tomorrow, he might be forced to leave the ones he loves behind again.

But for today, he’s here. He’s alive, and he can and does greet Sara with a kiss when she shows up a little early. She smiles at him for a minute before growing serious. She wanders into the kitchen and leans on the counter, looking down at their lists, which are no longer up to date.

“Barry contacted us today,” she says, and he stills. “He said he’ll take care of the speedster, ‘cause I guess that’s the fourth member of the team we couldn’t figure out. He also said to tell you the projections still look the same.” She turns to look at him, blue eyes unblinking. “Is this anything to do with the idea you mentioned last night?”

He nods slowly, and she continues watching him.

“Do I want to know?” she asks. “You said to trust you, and I do, I just… Do I want to know?”

Leonard swallows and shakes his head, doubting his decision as soon as he makes it, but nothing’s changed; it still wouldn’t help, could still actively hurt. He can’t have her hesitating when she needs to be able to save herself or the team from _him_.

Sara lets out a long breath. “Okay.” She reaches into her back pocket and produces a deck of cards. “Want to play?”

They end up playing a few games, leaning against the counter, and Leonard savors every moment between then and when he finally closes his eyes later that night.

And when he falls asleep, he dreams of the coming day.

He dreams of failure.

***

Sara wakes, not quite knowing what’s wrong. As she goes on alert, she notices how tense Leonard is. His arms twitch, and his face is contorted, but his eyes are still closed. A quick sweep of the room confirms this is almost certainly what woke her.

“Len,” she says softly, running her hand along his shoulder. When he doesn’t wake, she sits up, careful not to lean over him or crowd him, and tries a little louder. “Leonard, it’s okay. You’re dreaming.” Still no response. “Hey, Leonard,” she says at normal volume.

He sits up with an audible inhalation, just shy of a gasp. His eyes fix on hers in the dark, and quiet seconds pass before he reaches out and drags her into an embrace, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. She feels his breath hot against her skin, heavy and ragged, and she wraps her arms around him until the tension fades from his body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. He pulls back, shaking his head, and his eyes drop to her mouth. He surges forward again, and it’s like he’s devouring her, his mouth on hers demanding, merciless.

Sara gives as good as she gets, and before long, they’re both breathless, and each rock of his hips sends her closer to the edge, and as she tumbles over, their names escape like prayers.

***

Leonard opens his eyes. His first thought is appreciation that Sara is warm and relaxed against him. His second thought is that it could be the last time he wakes up this way.

It could be the last time he wakes up at all.

He can’t quite shake the desperation that tormented his sleep the night before. It doesn’t help, he’s fairly sure, but he can’t dismiss the emotion.

And wasn’t that what he’d decided he needed, anyway? Emotion, the desire to wake up like this again every day of his life, the need to be able to visit his sister…

These are what will give him an edge. He knows it.

So he lets himself embrace what he feels for the woman in his arms. Lets himself imagine a future with her, outside these walls. Sees the possibilities, the probabilities, the hopes and dreams and maybes, and when she finally wakes and blinks up at him, she inhales at what she sees.

“Leonard…” It’s almost a whisper, and he dips his head to taste her mouth, pouring every bit of his emotion into the kiss and getting the same in return. She looks shellshocked when they pull apart.

He thought she knew already, exactly how much he felt for her, but if she didn’t, she does now.

And the sight of her as she gets ready to leave, as she tells him to be careful in a way that lets him know she suspects something is happening today, the love in her eyes and in her touch as she kisses him goodbye…

It’ll sustain him for the day ahead.

It has to.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wonderful readers, this is the climax. I’m ridiculously nervous about this chapter because I love this fic so much and everything’s coming to a head here, so I hope I’ve done it justice.
> 
> Help from Tavyn again, and guest starring SylvanHeather. Thank you, ladies!

Between Leonard’s passionate goodbye and the knowledge that he has information he isn’t willing or able to share, Sara isn’t too surprised when the team is scrambling to get ready when she gets back to the Waverider.

“What’s going on?” she asks Jax.

“We found ‘em. We’re all going this time; they won’t be getting away again.” He looks guilty for a second before his expression shifts to resolved. “Gideon says if we don’t stop them today, lot of people are gonna die, so this one’s gotta count.”

He walks back toward the bridge, and Sara makes a pit stop to change before she does the same. The rest of the crew is waiting for her.

“Sara,” Rip acknowledges before taking the time to look each member in the eye. “We’ve faced worse than this before. No one we’re up against today has any special powers. We’re going up against League training and a cold gun.” His gaze pauses on Mick before flickering to Sara and moving on. “Use your strength. Use your smarts. Don’t let what they mean to you stop you from doing what you must.”

Sara’s fist clenches, despite knowing he’s right. She can’t forget that Merlyn’s the one who had her killed. She can’t forget that Darhk’s responsible for her sister’s death. She can’t forget the man Captain Cold could have become.

She can’t forget, and yet, she knows if she sees Cold again, she’ll see too much of Leonard to do what she needs to. She remembers Amaya’s advice.

Amaya is right, too. She can’t try to be the one to take on Cold today. She can’t try to protect him at the expense of the team.

He isn’t her Leonard, and the team needs her.

“We’ll all go in,” Rip continues, “but we’ll stagger our entrances…”

He continues talking strategy, and Sara commits his words to memory. His plan is actually a good one, and hopefully they’ll be able to end this for good.

And maybe, just maybe, when Cold is contained, Leonard will be able to come out of hiding. She considers telling the team, but the same thing stops her that’s been stopping her the whole time; the team isn’t supposed to know, and she dreads the possible ramifications if they know too soon. Once Cold is taken care of, it should be safe.

Sara’s one of the first ones at the Legion’s location, and confidence settles over her as she scans the area.

Merlyn and Darhk are here. There’s no sign of Barry’s speedster, and there’s no sign of Captain Cold. She can take down Merlyn and Darhk if she has to, kill them, even, with little or no remorse, if that’s what it takes.

This isn’t like when she was aiming at Stein, when Leonard helped stay her hand. Killing won’t be her first resort here, but if it happens, she can’t think of two better people for it to happen to.

The men in front of her smirk, and she snarls, tightening her grip on her new bo staff and rushing to attack.

It quickly devolves into chaos, but the rest of the team comes in, and it’s enough to slow their opponents. It’s enough that she’s able to spare a glance toward the movement further down the wide alley as she sees Leonard—and it’s definitely Leonard, based on the way he’s dressed, the way he’s moving, the way he looks at her—duck into what looks to be an abandoned warehouse.

A blow comes just a little too close to landing, and Sara wrenches her attention back to the fight, trusting Leonard knows what he’s doing.

***

Leonard isn’t sure how he knows where to go, but he does, and when he reaches the abandoned warehouse he used years ago after a heist, he has to stay out of sight; the team is already fighting Merlyn and Darhk. He allows himself one look at Sara from the shadows before he slips inside.

He pulls with him the image of her fighting Darhk with all she’s got.

The inside of the warehouse is badly lit. Most of the lights are broken, the majority of the illumination coming from a large hole in the roof.

Leonard stops just inside the door, and his double steps into the pool of filtered sunlight. The younger version of him is fully outfitted as Captain Cold, with goggles, gun, and sneer all firmly in place.

Leonard isn’t sure what he was thinking, coming here unarmed, but he’s here, and his own gun is leveled at him, and his only shot is figuring out how to fix the timeline.

The light reflects off Cold’s goggles as he studies him. “Figured you’d be showing up sooner or later.” Leonard stays quiet, letting the man talk. “The others are idiots, couldn’t tell Mick and the Canary weren’t acting right.”

Leonard clenches his fists at the mention of Sara and Mick, and Cold smirks.

“Can’t blame you for taking up with her,” he drawls, taking a step toward Leonard. “Didn’t believe I’d turned hero like Merlyn said until I saw the way she looked at me.”

Leonard’s nearly vibrating with anger as he waits. Clearly, they don’t just need to be near each other for the timelines to resolve. Contact, Cisco said. He just needs an opening, and to remember why he’s doing this in the meantime.

When Cold takes another step forward, Leonard realizes the vibration isn’t just a side-effect of anger.

The warehouse is actually vibrating, or at least he is. There are no sounds to back it up, and nothing’s getting rattled around or tipped over, but he’s sure he’s not imagining the movement. It feels like the ground is unsteady beneath his feet, like the air is shifting around him.

Cold doesn’t seem to notice as he continues. “It made it that much better, realizing you had to still be around. The pain was just too fresh for her and for Mick.” He powers up the gun. “You got weak, Leonard. Let me help you with that, for once and for all.”

Leonard shuffles forward, and the vibration gets stronger. Cold seems to notice now, looking around while keeping the gun steady.

“I didn’t grow weak,” Leonard says, drawing his opponent’s attention back to himself. “I changed. I adapted. I did what I had to, and you would have done the same.”

Cold tightens the grip on his gun. “And yet, clearly, that was a mistake. What good has it done you? Hiding out, pretending to be dead. May as well make it true.” There’s a feminine shout from outside, and he smirks. “Doesn’t sound like it’s going so well for the people who asked you to die for them. Too bad you won’t be around to see the aftermath.”

Leonard steps closer, stumbling as the vibrations grow worse. “Lisa,” he says, desperate to keep from being shot before he can fix the timeline.

Cold takes his finger off the trigger, resting it alongside the guard. “What?” he snarls.

“Lisa should still be alive, _is_ still alive in the timeline where I die a _hero_.” Despite everything, Leonard can’t say the word in relation to himself without the bite of sarcasm. “You and I aren’t supposed to coexist.” Another step, letting the vibration help prove his point. Things are getting blurry, and it’s hard to focus. “But Lisa, she’s still supposed to be here. You’ve already tried to save her.” He doesn’t have to ask, knows any version of him would use any tool at his disposal in a heartbeat to save his sister.

Cold’s finger moves back to the trigger. “What do you even know about it? You’ve never lost her.”

“We can save her,” Leonard says, watching his face carefully. He’s close enough now that if the cold gun goes off, he might just be able to dive far enough to come in contact with the other man before he gets hit.

“How?” His voice is laced with desperation.

Leonard weighs his options for only a moment before going with his gut. He knows this man; he _was_ this man. “We come in contact, and your timeline dissolves.” He puts as much strength behind the statement as he can, despite knowing that it might not be true.

It _has_ to be true.

“Your timeline dissolves,” Leonard continues, “and mine takes its place. We die a hero, but Lisa lives.”

Another step, and he’s barely outside of arm’s reach.

He sees the warring emotions on Cold’s face. He knows better than to trust an opponent at his word, but the opponent is _him_ , and they both know that he wouldn’t lie about this, wouldn’t lie about Lisa’s life.

Another step, and Leonard’s heart races with what’s at stake, at how much they could both lose. He reaches out a hand, and it feels like he’s going to be pulled apart.

“Let me get this straight,” Cold says. “I take your hand, and Lisa’s alive again?”

Leonard nods, and Cold’s jaw clenches and relaxes before clenching again.

“I disappear,” the man says, and Leonard nods again.

“That’s the idea,” he says. “You and your timeline fade away. Mine returns, and so does she.”

“Then what the _hell_ are you waiting for?” Cold powers down the gun, letting it fall to his side. He reaches out a hand, and the world starts to spin.

Leonard is relieved at the participation, but not shocked; even before he met the team, he would do anything to save his sister. He takes a second to pull forward all the emotions he’s been ignoring to get to this point. Lisa and her survival are already at the front of his mind.

He adds in Mick, thinking about how much he and his partner rely on each other despite the occasional animosity.

He thinks about the team, about how he died so they wouldn’t have to, about how he’d do it again, maybe _is_ doing it again.

He clings to his memories of Sara, of how she looks at him, how she feels in his arms, how she looks fighting, dancing, laughing, playing cards, and arguing.

He’s thinking of their last kiss, just this morning, and he can almost feel her lips against his when he finally closes the inches between his hand and Cold’s, and when they make contact, the world stops spinning, stops vibrating, and pain shoots through every atom of his body. He screams as he’s pulled through nothing and the world goes dark.

***

The fight isn’t going well for Sara and the rest of the team. She doesn’t know how Damien and Malcolm are still going, still keeping them off, even landing solid blow after solid blow. When Amaya takes a hard hit, Sara puts everything she’s got left into a retaliatory strike.

It lands, and Darhk goes down, unconscious, she thinks, but she doesn’t take the time to check. She turns to Merlyn, ready to keep going, when the ground starts to shake. She braces her legs so she doesn’t fall, eyes going immediately to the warehouse where she last saw Leonard.

The building is distorted, like it’s pulling in on itself. She glances at her team to make sure they’ve got Merlyn under control, then races toward the building.

Sara reaches it just as the distortion abruptly reverses, and she’s thrown back at the silent explosion. She’s winded but uninjured, and she drags herself to her feet, staring at the building that’s somehow still intact. She looks toward the team, and they’re coming her way, Darhk and Merlyn gone.

Sara starts toward the building again, coming to an abrupt halt as the door opens and reveals Leonard Snart.

“Don’t be stupid, Sara,” Rip says as she starts toward him.

She ignores him. Leonard’s eyes are fixed on hers, and it’s _him_ , she knows it is, knows it even though he’s just standing there, and she feels her feet moving toward him, and then finally, finally he’s moving, too, and a sob escapes as she flings her arms around him and he wraps her tightly in his embrace.

“It’s over,” he says, and he sounds a little too shaken to be as soothing as she thinks he’s aiming for, but she doesn’t care. “The other Snart is gone.”

“Other two faded away,” Mick says. “Merlyn and Darhk, they just sorta disappeared.”

“Astonishing,” says Stein. “I can remember them being here, but I can also remember the alley being empty when we arrived.”

Leonard lets go of Sara, and she reluctantly drops her arms, turning with him to face the rest of the crew, who are all staring at them with varying levels of confusion. Nobody seems seriously injured, though the scrapes and bruises don’t seem to have faded along with their assailants, and Amaya’s limping pretty badly.

Nate looks a bit lost. Ray looks betrayed. Rip is angry, Mick relieved, Stein intrigued. Jax looks like he’s fluctuating between confusion, anger, and excitement. Amaya looks entirely unsurprised, but like she’s still waiting for something.

“Let’s get back to the Waverider,” Leonard says, in not quite a drawl. “I can explain, but I expect Gideon can help us all fill in some blanks.”

There’s some brief bickering, but in the end, with Leonard unarmed and Sara and Mick vouching for him, the team accepts that the Leonard in front of them won’t bring them harm, and as they start back to the ship, Leonard takes Sara’s hand, and they maintain contact for the entire walk.

On the bridge, Rip immediately demands an explanation, and Leonard starts.

“You might remember that several months ago, I died…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, we’ll better see the team’s reactions in the next chapter! Just the one more full chapter, then a time-jumped epilogue.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, we’re at the end! There’s still an epilogue that’ll jump forward some, but this is the end. 
> 
> All of the thanks to Tavyn for encouragement and betaing today. I would not have gotten this chapter out on time without her. She’s amazing.

Amazingly, the team holds all their questions for the end, letting Leonard speak.

Or at least, they’re not so obnoxious about their interruptions that Leonard can’t ignore them, so he’s able to get through his story relatively quickly, bringing them up to today.

“Thanks to Barry and the nerds who work with him,” he says, ignoring the exasperated looks from the people who know Team Flash, “I knew today was the day I had to meet up with the other me. With Captain Cold.” He lets his voice convey the awkwardness of referring to a different version of himself using an alias, but it really does simplify things.

“How’d you know where to go?” asks Nate, who reminds him a lot of Raymond, if maybe a touch less puppyish. “Did Sara contact you?”

“I'm not sure how I knew,” Leonard admits. “But I did. And I was right, wasn't I? So it really doesn't matter.”

“You must have had some sort of connection with Cold,” Raymond mutters. The man's been alternating between avoiding eye contact and looking at him with a wounded expression, and Leonard’s starting to get annoyed.

“You think?” he snaps before sighing. He really just should have kept ignoring everyone. “That's my best guess, too,” he says. “Regardless of how, I found the place, and that was that.”

“You were in there for a while,” Sara says quietly, and he looks at her, feeling the team do the same. He can almost hear their curiosity about the fact that his and Sara’s dynamic has shifted. “What happened?”

He looks around at the team before looking back at Sara. It's easier to focus on her for this part. “Nothing, at first. A lot of threats. Everything started vibrating when we got too close, and I figured we needed contact to make it work.” He hesitates, gathering his thoughts. “Lisa died, in his timeline. In the end, he took my hand, made it happen to save her.” Leonard turns toward the console where he thinks of the AI as living. “Gideon?”

“Yes, Mr. Snart?” The AI breaks her silence.

“Lisa’s okay now, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Snart. Your sister is alive and well.”

Leonard breathes. He hadn't realized he was still actively worried about that. He knew she should be fine, but hearing it is something else. He'll need to go see her in person soon, won't really trust it until then. Sara touches his hand, and he looks back at her.

“So that's what happened,” he says before turning back to the team, all watching him much too closely. “Any questions?” he asks, laying on the sarcasm, and it breaks some of the tension.

Stein seems fascinated. “It appears that ah, Captain Cold, as it were, sacrificed himself so that his sister could live. It has a certain sense of balance, does it not? A life for a life.”

“Sure, why not?” Leonard agrees, taking a chair. Sara sits next to him, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that clearly dares the team to give Leonard a hard time.

He can't quite help the smile he aims at her before he looks away.

“So you knew, Sara,” Rip says, and Leonard bristles at the accusation in his tone. “And so did you, Mr. Rory. Anyone else?”

“I knew, Captain,” chimes Gideon, and Leonard smirks at the resigned look on the captain’s face. “My protocols merely blocked me from accessing the information.”

“Fantastic,” Rip mutters. “Anybody else?”

The new woman in the group, Amaya, raises her hand. “I was pretty sure,” she says. She looks from Rip to Leonard. “I knew how she talked about you, when she let herself. There's this look she gets. She had it when she spoke of the person she was meeting every night.”

Leonard likes Amaya, he decides. She has an easy confidence about her. She's firm enough with her words, not apologetic in the slightest.

Somehow, until she says something, Rip hasn't put together that Sara’s been meeting up with Leonard every night for months now. Rip looks between them, and Leonard reaches out to take Sara’s hand, lacing their fingers together on her lap.

It’s unlikely they’ll ever be more affectionate than this with so many people around, but he’s not going to hide their relationship or what she means to him. He doesn’t think he could even if he tried.

Rip looks at their joined hands, then back at their faces, and Leonard watches as the fight drains out of him. “You two are… Right, of course. I should have known.” He turns and starts doing something on the console, probably catching up on whatever Gideon’s hidden from him, and Leonard chooses to pay attention to the rest of the team.

“You could've told me,” Raymond says. “I wouldn't have said anything. I can keep a secret.”

Leonard stares at the man. He doesn’t actually dislike Ray as much as he pretends, but he can’t be serious.

Sara responds for him. “We couldn't let anyone else know,” she says. “Believe me, I wanted to.”

He rubs his thumb across hers once at the trace guilt in her voice. It's probably not enough for anyone else to pick up on.

“I'm just glad you're back, man,” Jax says, shooting a look at Ray. “Would've been nice to be in the know, sure, but we get it.” The look becomes more pointed. “Don't we, Ray?”

The kid has clearly picked up some more confidence since Leonard's been gone. Raymond grumbles something that sounds like reluctant acknowledgement.

“I'd love to see the ramifications from this and how they affect, well, everything.” The professor sounds excited.

“Now that the conflict has resolved,” Gideon supplies helpfully, “the ramifications are relatively minor. If I may correct an earlier statement by Mr. Snart, the other timeline didn't exactly dissolve. That would have created an unstable paradox. Instead, the timelines merged. Our Mr. Snart’s was simply the dominant in the equation.”

Mick grunts. “Obviously. If it never happened, we wouldn't have been there to make it happen.”

“Quite right,” Rip agrees absently. “It appears that the only changes that remain from the other timeline, the one created by the Legion’s various changes through the past several decades, are a few business names, oddly enough. Different owners, perhaps.”

“If that's all settled, then,” Raymond says, “Amaya, you should probably head to the med bay and get that leg fixed.”

“I'll help,” Nate offers, and he and Raymond escort her out of the bridge.

One by one, the others start filing out, until only Mick, Sara, and Leonard remain.

***

Leonard's still holding her hand, and Sara’s pretty sure he doesn't even realize it.

Not that he seemed to mind they were holding hands earlier, either, but there was something possessive about the way they joined hands this time, and she expected him to let go once their point was made.

“Still have to tell yourself not to come on board,” Mick says, breaking the silence. “At some point.”

Sara remembers back when she first showed at Leonard's hideout, how he told her how he'd encountered his future self, and Leonard nods. “I'll do that tomorrow.”

“Gideon?” Sara asks, realizing something’s missing. “How did Leonard come back in the first place?”

“I can’t say for certain,” the AI answers. “It seems the Oculus relocated him, rather than killing him as we thought, but I’m unable to confirm this theory.”

Leonard looks like he disagrees—she knows he thinks he really did die—but he stays quiet, and Mick speaks as if Sara never asked the question.

“What's the plan for tonight, then? Want to get a drink?”

“Sure,” Leonard says. “Why not?”

They have a few drinks, and Amaya even joins them briefly. It feels strange, though, after so long of keeping Leonard a secret, and Sara doesn't really relax until she and Leonard have moved to her room.

They sit on the bed automatically, resting against the pillows, Sara on Leonard’s left as usual. When she leans against his shoulder, he puts his arm around her.

“Are you okay?” she asks when they're settled. “The whole thing with your other self… It couldn’t have been as easy as you made it sound.”

He’s quiet, and she can tell he’s considering his answer. “It was strange,” he says finally, “seeing another version of myself. Knowing that if everything went according to plan, he’d be erased, and I’d be left behind.”

“Yeah.” Sara frowns. “I think I shouldn’t be happy he’s gone, because it was still you. And I’m not, really. I feel bad for him, you know? He didn’t have the team. He didn’t have Mick, once he went with the Legion. He didn’t have Lisa.” She reaches over and takes Leonard’s free hand. “But I don’t know what I’d have done if we’d lost you again.”

“Losing wasn’t an option,” he says. “There was too much at stake.”

“Lisa,” she says. She isn’t surprised that any version of Leonard was willing to give his life for his sister.

He nods and turns his head toward her, and she pulls away so she can see his face. “There were other compelling reasons for me to stay, too.” He leans in, and she tilts her head up, and their lips meet.

They haven’t been doing this long, the romantic physical interactions, but in some ways, it feels like an extension of the rest of their relationship. They’ve always clicked well, challenging each other and complimenting each other at once, and this is no different.

“What are your plans,” she asks when they stop, “now that you don’t have to hide?” She pauses, realizing that she and the rest of the team have been taking something for granted. “Are you coming back to the team?”

“I wasn’t sure.” He takes her hand again, stroking it absently as he thinks. “I thought about it, those long days alone. Wondered whether I’d come back, or whether I’d go back to the life I had before the Waverider. Assuming you’d keep visiting, of course.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, and Sara relaxes. He wouldn’t be teasing her if he wasn’t staying, would he? “But the team is lost without me. I can tell. It’s only right that I stick around so you can all function.”

Sara chuckles and pushes him away halfheartedly. She turns, pulling her legs under her so she can watch him more easily. “Seriously, Len, you died on your last mission with the team. You know I want you to stay with us, but you’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he says, meeting her eyes. “Are my things still around?”

Sara nods. “Mick pretty much kept your stuff where it was. I know your cold gun’s still with the other weapons.”

Leonard’s eyes drop back to the bed. “I can start bringing my things here tomorrow, if you don’t object.”

“Your stuff?” Sara knows what it sounds like he’s saying, but she doesn’t want to assume.

“Thought maybe since we're used to sleeping together, anyway, we'd just share a room.” He pauses. “Besides, seems the thing people on this ship do when they're in love.” He looks back up at her, gaze intense.

Sara stares for several seconds, feeling her heart race. “We're in love?” she repeats, and Leonard frowns.

“I am. Are you not? Because—”

Sara doesn't let him finish, flinging herself at him, earning a low chuckle as she kisses him firmly. Leonard encourages the kiss, getting swept up in it after a moment, and all thoughts have been pretty effectively wiped from Sara’s mind by the time they stop to breathe.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, and she has to concentrate way harder than she wants to in order to figure out the question. In the end, she narrows it to two possibilities, and she answers both.

“Yes, we should share a room,” she says, “and yes, I love you.”

He gives her a smug little grin that she really wants to kiss, but instead, she pretends annoyance.

“Shut up,” she says. He doesn't respond, just leans forward and kisses her, slowly, thoroughly, and when they've leaned back against the pillows and their hands have started roaming, he pulls back just far enough to speak.

“Sara?”

“What?” she breathes.

“I love you, too.”


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in the epilogue. I always get a bit resistant at ending stories, and that gets worse the more I’ve enjoyed or gotten invested in a story. Add to that the fact that I knew I’d left off in a pretty settled place instead of a cliffhanger, and, well… It’s actually probably amazing that it’s not even been a month yet.
> 
> I reread it today and actually think the Legion!Len parts hold up pretty well against the canon version of him, though they were given different circumstances.
> 
> Thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. I’m pretty sure this fic is my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and your part in it—comments, kudos, reblogs on tumblr, votes in the CCAs—was huge.
> 
> You’re the best.

The next day, Leonard takes a brief trip back in time to visit his newly-returned self. The Waverider parks across town, with extra cloaking, and Sara comes with him most of the way there. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before he moves in for the conversation.

It feels odd, reliving the conversation from the other side. On Gideon’s advice, he just goes with his gut on what to say, rather than trying to recite it from memory, and it seems to come out the same. He steps back into the shadows and watches the earlier version of him sneak aboard the Waverider.

Leonard feels pity for the months of near solitude that lie ahead for him, until Sara slips her hand into his.

Good things await him, too.

“Let’s get back,” Sara says, and they do.

***

It’s another two days before he finally gets to see Lisa.

“You’d think time aboard a time ship could be a little more flexible,” he grumbles as he and Sara approach the coffee shop Lisa suggested.

Sara laughs. “You know we had stuff we had to clean up before Rip was gonna agree to a personal detour.”

He doesn’t reply, relaxing instead; he’s caught sight of his sister, sitting at an outdoor table and grinning at him. Sara reaches out and touches his arm briefly before going inside to order drinks, and Leonard joins Lisa at the table.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” she says. “Hadn’t heard anything in months.”

Leonard shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t really want to tell his sister he was dead, actually or officially, for the time he’d gone dark. “Sorry.” He even less wants to tell her about a reality in which their father had succeeded in killing her.

“Have you been distracted because of her?” Lisa asks, nodding toward the coffee shop.

He breathes. “Sara’s part of it, yes. That, and I had to go off the grid for a while.”

“Sounds exciting,” Lisa says, the sarcasm that’s so like his own lacing her voice.

“Parts of it,” he answers. “How have things been for you? Ruling the new city yet?”

She shrugs. “I do what I want. It works for me. I’ve been considering heading back to Central City, though.” Lisa smiles. “If only to give Cisco and his friends a hard time.”

Leonard chuckles, picturing his sister terrorizing Team Flash. Sara joins them, handing him a hot chocolate while she sips at some caffeinated concoction.

“I’m Sara,” she tells his sister, who smirks.

“I know. We met when I was on the Waverider.”

Sara looks at him, raising an eyebrow. She doesn’t look surprised as much as amused, though, at the obvious conclusion.

“I didn’t exactly follow directions on making sure she took the memory pill,” Leonard confirms, and she snorts before turning to Lisa with something of a conspiratorial smile.

“So we can skip the awkward introduction thing, then,” she says. “Good.”

The conversation flows easily enough after that. Around the time Leonard can tell the gathering is coming to an end, Lisa looks pointedly between the two of them.

“So who made the first move?” she asks.

Leonard turns to look at Sara, who’s blinking at him. They weren’t acting any differently than usual, he didn’t think; they weren’t holding hands or touching, really, and he’s not sure how Lisa figured out they’re together. Besides, the answer to her question is a little less than straightforward.

“He usually does the talking first,” Sara answers, looking away and toward Lisa. “And I’m the one who takes action.”

His sister seems to find this amusing, and Leonard wants to protest that he’s the one who initiated their second kiss, the one that led to _more,_ but by that point, they were already all but together, so he’s not sure it changes anything.

Still, when they get back to the Waverider, he makes a point of being the one to initiate that night’s physical activities.

***

It’s weeks before they go back to the place that served as Leonard’s home. There’s nothing he really needs there, but eventually, he decides they should clean the place out so there’s no trace of him, and Sara agrees.

It looks smaller to her than it had before, and darker inside, like the life has left it. Intellectually, she knows there’s no difference; everything is still where it was last time they were here, but it still feels like it’s changed.

It doesn’t take long to load up the duffel bags they’d grabbed. Leonard didn’t exactly have much, and almost no time has passed before any trace of them really is gone. Sara toys with the disposable camera she brought on their day out. “I need to get this film developed,” she says, placing it in one of the bags. “Gideon can probably do that, right?” She pauses, seeing three separate taped and folded papers near the top of the bag, handwriting almost visible. “What are these?”

Leonard stills next to her, and for a minute, she’s not sure he’s going to answer. “When I knew I might be running out of time,” he says finally, “I wrote letters, for you and Mick and Lisa.”

“Can I read mine?” she asks, then shakes her head almost immediately. “Never mind. I don’t want… It was a goodbye, right? I mean, I’m assuming, since we never got them.”

He nods. “In case _he_ survived and I didn’t, I needed all of you to know how much you meant to me.” He hesitates. “There’s nothing in yours that you don’t already know, but I’d rather you not read it. It wasn’t exactly easy to write.”

Sara swallows and nods, then steps close so she can reach out and touch him. “I won’t read it. Tell me what I mean to you?”

His voice is low when he answers. “Everything.”

***

She gets the film developed when they get back to the Waverider, asking Gideon for prints rather than digital copies.

Sara goes through the photos while Leonard has some beers with Mick, and most of them are actually pretty bad. It’s clear neither of them were trying for quality, and there are a lot of off-center pictures of art and food and birds. She sets aside the good ones, though, because there are some of them.

She thinks Leonard will like the one where she’s making a ridiculous face at the camera, grinning and sticking out her tongue while crossing her eyes at him. It’s a silly enough expression that it overwhelms her disguise.

There’s a photo of Leonard, watching birds fly away from the fountain with an expression too soft to call a smirk, and with the way his face is turned mostly away from the camera, the prosthetic makeup is less obvious than in the head-on shots. Sara sets that one aside to send to Lisa.

Her favorite, though, is one of the two of them. They’d grabbed a random passerby and asked for a photo in front of the fountain, but Sara had been too busy trying to get Leonard to smile, and when the woman snapped the photo, neither of them were looking at the camera. They were looking at each other.

_Everything._

What they feel for each other is so clear in this picture, even before they acted on it, and Sara wonders what they look like together now. Maybe it’s not so strange Lisa could tell they were together.

She finds an empty picture frame and puts the photo inside before setting it near her and Leonard’s bed, then she goes in search of Mick and Leonard.

She finds them where she expects, nearly finished with their beers. “Mind company?” she asks, and they both shake their heads. “You wanna get drunk or you wanna go see if Gideon can play some of that shitty sitcom for us?”

They decide on the latter, and it’s not quite the same as it was in Leonard’s temporary living room; there’s much more comfortable seating, for one thing, and for another, even the worst of Gideon’s screens would blow Leonard’s out of the water. Still, it feels almost the same. Better since it’s by choice.

Sara curls into Leonard’s side—Mick’s the only person they’re comfortable enough to do this in front of—and Leonard wraps an arm around her, and she’s relaxed, but not too relaxed to catch a flying kernel of popcorn in her mouth when Mick tosses it at her face.

“Good catch,” he says, ducking when Leonard returns fire.

They pay attention to the television as much as they bicker, and as rough as parts of the last several months were—she’ll always wish Laurel were around—she feels nothing but gratitude that they’re here now.

“I love you,” Leonard whispers in her ear during a quiet moment. “Just thought you should know.”

She grins at him, letting herself feel every bit of how good and right this is. “I do know,” she says. “I really do.”


End file.
